


Just Playing Dead

by heartbeathurtsnomore



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: Drama, Gen, Horror, Mystery, Nightmares, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbeathurtsnomore/pseuds/heartbeathurtsnomore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being stalked for the better part of 8 months Jared finds himself finally lifting himself up from the dust, finding hope again in life, in a new love, in just being alive. That is until the nightmare happens again and he finds himself thrown into the twisted plan again but this time deaths start happening and he's at the core of the twisted darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New story...tell me what you think!

His was the perfect life, watching himself through someone else’s eyes would be like watching a golden boys life story. His life had been smiled upon by all that glittered and was certainly gold. He had gone through his terrible spells, moments of self doubt and loneliness but overall his life had been charmed. He was alive and he had so many people to thank for that, most of all himself. He’d gotten himself to a point in his life when all that mattered was the now, all that mattered was what happened at the moment you were living. He was glad to have gotten there, long ago having been repressed into living for everyone else. He was free of it now. He was free. He’d never tasted that before.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, smiling a little at how clear the blue of his eyes were. To his own mind he looked years younger than he had in such a long time and he felt that way too. He was getting older, there was no doubt of that but knowing that the best years of his life were ahead of him, he was glad to be progressing onward.

Pulling on his jacket he grabbed a hair tie and tied back the length of his hair before setting his hat on. He was ready. A few months off before the big tour, he was glad for it. Take all the rest you need, their manager had said and he had smiled willing to do just that.

Walking out of the bathroom he stopped and dragged himself back in. Sighing a little he opened the medicine cabinet and took out the orange bottle of pills. Tipping one into his hand he set it on his tongue, filling a glass near the sink with water and swallowed it down. He twisted the cap back on, put it away and then again looked in the mirror.

“You’re alright.” He said to his own reflection, a look of sudden doubting promise in his eyes. “You’re alright. He won’t be coming back”

He turned on his heel and left the bathroom. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. Baby, you almost ready? We’re all waiting downstairs! He smiled a little and tucked the phone back into his coat. He walked with the same smile on his face out the door before he turned around and looked inside his house.

There was nothing there, no one was there. Why would there be? He lived alone. He didn’t want him back again. Not him, not those tormenting months he had brought with him.

Heavily he sighed and tore himself out of the house, locking up as he did. The three locks and the padlock as well. Standing straight and tucking the ring of keys into his coat he headed out to the car waiting for him. He smiled at all of them, the sun breezing down sweetly on him. There was a small whispering wind, caressing along his skin.

Shannon got out of the car, bringing him into a quick embrace before letting him go. “Where we going?”

Jared shrugged and looked over at her, his smile widening. “Ask her, this was all her idea.”

Shannon looked over at her but she waved him off and got out of the car which sent Shannon back to his seat.

Jared had met Harlow nearly eight months ago, when his life had been so broken the shards shattered inside of him had been too impossible to find. She had suffered the lows with him, had stayed beside him through the darkest moments he had wallowed in. She hadn’t left him, never once intending to. She loved him, she had changed him and slowly they had fallen in love. Their love being the one sure thing that had helped to bring him back.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lithe figure against him. Her smile was brilliant, glistening sweetly in the brown of her wide eyes. She had a smile that was solely for him, a smile that belonged to him, kisses that had been reserved and would always be his. Their love was solid, the kind that broke barriers and tore the other apart, mending each other the whole way.

“Hey sweet thing.” He said down to her, leaning forward and softly kissing her.

“I’m so excited for tonight. I hope you have a great time. It’s only dinner.” She whispered, lifting herself on her toes to kiss him again.

Shannon reached over, honking the horn to get their attention. “I have an early rise tomorrow, move it.” He jokingly called out, laughing as he did to the rest of Jared’s friends in the car.

Harlow pulled away from Jared with a small laugh and tugged him along into the car. He sat beside her in the back, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and bringing her closer against him. He rested his head back, listening to his brother and Jamie talk up front, feeling Harlow beside him and a smile graced his lips. He was happy. Everything was working out. And he was alive. Thank God, he was alive.

**  
Dinner had gone as planned. Jared had enjoyed the company and everything had set the tone for the rest of the night. He had gone back with Harlow to her place, the rest of the guys taking a taxi home and now he was resting on her couch while she got them a couple of drinks. He felt safer here, nothing had happened here. It had become some sort of haven for him during those tumultuous months. He had found comfort in her arms, happiness in her words, love in the caress of her body. He had found her and that was all that needed to be said.

She came out of the kitchen, two drinks in her hands but something about her smile had waned. His brows knitted together lightly as he took the drink and she sat beside him.

“You alright?” He asked worriedly.

She contemplated her answer, whether to tell him the truth. He was in such a good place was she really supposed to dump this on him now? But if he found out later he would feel wounded that she hadn’t come to him.

Softly she sighed and turned to look at him. “Nothing…nothing I can’t handle.” She replied in a small whisper, resting her head on her hand as she turned to face him.

He eyed her before reaching out and gently tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “Tell me.” He insisted.

“I’ll make you a deal…I tell you if you tell me if you’re really alright.”

He held her eyes for a moment before sighing and looking away. “I’m fine. Haven’t we talked about this?”

She nodded and moved closer against him, resting her hand on his chest. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “And your medication?”

“Everyday.” He replied with a sincere nod.

“Good boy.” She said with a small laugh, kissing at the spot on his chest her hand was resting.

“Your turn.” He lowered his arm around her, bracing himself for- for what? Why was he always so on edge? Always tiptoeing the precipice?

“I have to show you something…” She whispered as she slipped off of him and disappeared into her bedroom for a moment. She came back a short while later, a small envelope in her hands. She looked to him hesitantly before sitting down. “Here.”

He took the envelope from her and as he opened it he looked up at her. “What is it?” He didn’t wait for her answer, he just opened it up and took out its contents.

It was a single paper. Breaking hearts is easy, I can tear out your life with the cut of my knife. Whisper me to sleep, my love and the two of us will dream. Dream in the blood of each other. His hands started to shake as he read it. Letting the paper slip from his hands he looked up at her.

“Who sent this?!” He shouted out, looking down at the fallen piece of paper. “Is this some kind of joke?”

She shook her head rapidly and went to him. But he had slipped into his panic, his head lowered to his hands and he rocked back and forth. Tears sprang to his eyes and he kept shaking his head.

It couldn’t be him. He couldn’t be here again. It’d been months, so many months of freedom. Why would he be back?


	2. 2

He just kept thinking of the letter long after she had gone to sleep. His eyes glazing over with tears before he quickly sucked them back again. He couldn’t go through this again, not when he had just found his peace. It couldn’t be real, this had to be some kind of a joke. He couldn’t remember this. Not now. Not when every broken piece was only now falling into place again. He’d seen too much, grabbed onto too much to let it all fall away because of some letter. IT had to be a joke. There was no other legible explanation. There was no reason why this would be happening again. It was a joke, only a joke.

After all his breakdown had been well documented by the press after he had publicly collapsed on stage after a letter of this very liking had been thrown up on stage to him. He had read it and after months and months of torment had finally broken beneath the heaviness of the harassing. The show had been stopped, he had been able to go back stage and see to taking care of himself but he had done none of that. He had gone out to where the meet and greet line had gathered together in a pressing manner despite the orders of the security to go home. He had gone out there screaming, demanding which one of them had been the one to send him those letters, to send him all the threats he had gotten. He had screamed, physically pushed people, until finally Shannon had come along with several members of security had taken him away.

The days following that meltdown had been the worst. He had heard that they had to release a statement concerning his mental state and although the fans were forgiving he couldn’t find himself wanting to go back out on tour. The rest of the dates were canceled, his lack of stability the main cause. He was allowed to go home, treat himself to rest. It was just exhaustion they told him, it had to be all in his head. No one was that insane to threaten him for so long, were they? And if it was all real then it was simply a crazed fan who would grow bored after awhile. All he had to do was ignore it. Ignore it and it goes away.

He had tried to ignore it. So viciously had he tried. But ignoring something that won’t let up was something he couldn’t find himself doing. The calls came everyday, the threats, the voicemails, the cars driving past his house. No matter how many times he changed his number, no matter where he ran off to hide to he never got a moments peace. It had become the way that he had to live. Like a scared and sniffling child just waiting for the boogeyman to jump out of the closet. He had once been fearless but somehow that had been stolen from him.

Nothing had ever been the same since then. Of course he had met Harlow who had helped him to get out of the shadows of his pain but still the healing had been long. The process had been painful. Letting go of his fears had been a struggle. Seeing a therapist to resume the natural order of a mans life had been tedious. But he had tried it once everything stopped, once he suddenly just disappeared. He had questioned the ceasing of course but he hadn’t cared much about the whys. He had simply cared of the freedom he could finally breathe in.  
And here he was so close to the resolve. So close to being cured of the constant pain he could barely let go of. Where was his peace now? Where was the healing that he had worked so hard on? Ghosts didn’t exist, they didn’t bump in the night. So why was this bastard coming back from the darkness he had disappeared to? It wasn’t fair. He came back easier than Jared had managed to heal. He had only stopped needing to lick his wounds, the medication was working. Why the hell did this have to happen? And now of all days.

Looking over at Harlow he sighed and pulled himself out from underneath her. She shifted a little but didn’t stir. She was always a deep sleeper. He watched her a moment, his heart calming at the mere sight of her. She was so beautiful, the exact peace he had been praying for but suddenly it all felt like some kind of charade. Feeling the pain suck away at the life he had built, seeing the ghosts rise up around him had done that. Everything felt false now and the only thing he wished was that he would be able to rise from the ashes he had previously drowned in.

Pulling on his shirt and pants he tugged on his boots and grabbed his coat. He quietly left the bedroom, making sure he didn’t wake her before he slipped out. Finding the letter she had shown him on the table in the living room he carefully lifted it into his hands. The same writing, the same wording. All of it was the same, no differences and just then he felt his entire world begin to crash down around him. This was the end he feared, the single end he would ever know.

Quietly he left the house and got into his car. Driving away down the still busy streets of Los Angeles, he simply stared out the window. The inky sky gave him the silver vision of the sterling moon and the glistening view of a million stars. A quiet and sweet wind caressed through the open window, drying the tears that had fallen from his lashes. His eyes looked everywhere because he knew he wasn’t alone. He could feel eyes on him and the suffocation nearly killed him. Could he really continue this way?

He stopped outside of his house, shakily pulling the keys from his pocket as he walked to the door. He fumbled with the three locks, unlocking the padlock finally and then slipped inside. It was quiet except for the cool hum of the air conditioner which made it cold. His teeth began to chatter and his eyes half lidded. He was always so tired these days, the crash from the pills did that he assumed. Still he moved forward, throwing off his coat and making his way down into the storage room. He pulled the chain to drown the room in a dim white light.

He could hear his dog barking in the backyard, he was probably hungry, Jared had been gone a long time, he probably needed a walk too. He would take care of that he just needed to check something first.

Pulling the letter Harlow had shown him out from his pants pocket he walked over to a bin that he had shelved. He didn’t tell anyone about it, hadn’t told anyone that he had kept all of it. And why would he? They would only tell him to throw it all away. The healing process meant a purging and that meant escaping the life he was trying to run away from.

He hadn’t been able to rid himself of all of it. He had looked through the darkness and had survived. This was all evidence of his testimony of living through the nightmare that had plagued him. How many people suffered so tragically and had pulled through? None that Jared knew of. He was a lone survivor, someone who had broken through torturous boundaries to find himself still alive. Oh but was he alive? That was always the question he put to himself over and over again. Was he alive? And in the same way he had been before all of this?  
Carefully he lifted the first thing he had wrapped in plastic. He opened the bag and pulled out the folded letter. He had given the police so much when he had reported the initial stalking but he couldn’t let go of these few items, his evidence, his personal report. Opening the letter he read over the scribbled letters. Such messy or hurried handwriting. Yet he could read it. After spending hours upon hours staring at the words he had better understand it. It was the letter from the stage.

‘Jared, light of my life, we will walk down the barren paths of this cruel world together. Hand in hand, you and I. Remember these words and we shall live as one. Your poetic soul intertwining with mine.’

He always wondered who it had been, always pondered the infinite question of who would write such beautifully twisted things. Why hadn’t they shown themselves? At least given him a clue.

Harshly he swallowed and continued reading.

‘I will lick your blood that I dream of shedding. That beautiful blood that flows through your veins. Let me end your life and we shall live forever. Darkness and death lacing through each other. Your death will be sweet, especially at my hands.’

The tears glazed again in his blue eyes, quivering the color until he blinked them away. His own personal hell tasted as bitter as it always did.  
Reaching his hand forward he steadied himself as a wave of dizziness rushed through him. His teary eyes fluttered closed and he felt himself giving way to the drowsiness inside of him. “Damn pills.” he muttered as he slipped to the ground and rested his head back, his eyes closing as sleep fell upon him.

*****  
It was morning. He could tell by the way his body no longer ached with tiredness. He rubbed at his eyes as he slowly sat up. Checking his watch he saw that it was nearing the afternoon and checking his phone he saw he had missed several calls from Harlow as well as a couple from Shannon.

Groaning he rose up and wiped at the drool on his chin. This was the only way he slept these days, falling under the spell of passing out. It was the only way he could stay asleep.

Putting away all the stuff he also stored the newest letter that Harlow had gotten. Leaving the storage room he stopped when he saw a trail of blood leading towards the bedroom.

Blood?

His heart stopped as he followed the trail. His breathing hurried out and his head began to spin. One of his hands curled into a tight fist as fear echoed through him.

Once he saw it his mind registered it. His dog wasn’t barking anymore. No, it was laying stabbed through with a long knife on the top of his bed.

Jared’s fear spilled over into tears as he stumbled back from the gruesome sight. His heart was racing now as he felt for his phone.

There was a paper on the ground that he lifted up into his hands carefully. The writing was in blood, his dogs blood.

‘Tell Harlow her blood is going to taste real sweet.’


	3. 3

He stood there longer than he thought he would have. His eyes full of tears as he stared at the letter. He kept telling himself that it couldn’t be the same person, that the guy couldn’t have come back from the grave to resurrect the torture he had put him through. But he knew better. He was smarter than that. He knew that darkness could come anytime to shroud the possibility of actually living. He knew nightmares always came back no matter how much you tried to lock the door on them. He had to deal with this. How? He wasn’t too sure. But he would have to face it with the strength that was slowly waning.

Quietly he left the room, going to get some bags and a few towels. Perhaps he should call the police but indiscretion wasn’t everyone’s policy. Enough money and his plea for privacy could be out the door. There would be no cops. They didn’t help before. He would figure it out for himself. Figure out who was so hellbent on ruining whatever life he had left. They didn’t care that he was already hanging on by a weak string. He was dying slowly and soon enough the emptiness would devour him.

Coming back he stood in front of the bed, feeling his stomach turn as he looked down at the dog. The smell was horrendous, so was the sight of all that blood. Harshly he swallowed and looked down at the knife plunged through the dog and shakily wrapped his hand around it. His eyes squeezed shut as he slowly pulled it out. He heard the slickness of the blood as he took it out, saw the way the blood stained his hands. He was getting sicker by the moment but he had to do this if he wanted to try to move on. Maybe this was an isolated incident and nothing recurring at all.

Dropping the knife to the ground he let out a long sigh. Staring at the bloody mess it made on the blue carpet of his bedroom. It was everywhere but he had to continue. Taking up the bags he set them open on top of the bed. He lifted the dead weight dog onto the plastic and quickly wrapped it up, throwing the knife in there as well. He tied the bags, slumping it over his shoulder and taking it out to the backyard. He left it sitting there on the dirt before returning to his bedroom.

He went to work, scrubbing the blood from the carpet. It was tedious, the amount of blood he had to remove was nearly ridiculous. It was like whoever had done this had let the dog sit there while it died making the carpet soak up all the blood. He scrubbed and scrubbed, his eyes blurring and barely able to get the stains out. Throwing the towel that was now covered in soap and blood down with a heavy sigh. This was pointless.

Standing up on weakened legs he went about removing the blood stained bedding and immediately washing them and then went to the sink to wash away the stains on his skin. He scrubbed at his hands, the water steaming up to the mirror in the bathroom. He used his nails, wanting to claw away the feeling. The blood, the fear that something was rising up from inside of him. He glanced up at himself in the fogged mirror. The tears quivering the blue of his eyes, his lips lightly trembling. He was the portrait of fear, emptiness. He was fading out slowly, dying.

Slipping out into the backyard he looked at the water in the pool. It glistened, the clear blue ripples in the small breeze that brushed past him. He’d only just moved here, the house was barely renovated when he had moved in. There wasn’t any cement in the back, the pool really the only thing out here. It was all dirt and it rose up like dust due to the wind. There was a splintered shovel nearby and he took ahold of it. He tried to push it in, the dirt was too hard. A frustrated groan escaped his lips and he threw it aside.

Pushing a shaky hand through his hair he tried to think of what to do. Couldn’t bury the dog back here with the dirt being this and he couldn’t exactly throw the bag into the dumpsters what with the smell. He would have to throw it somewhere else, let it rot away from his house. He didn’t have a choice unless he called the police and that was just something he couldn’t bring himself to do, not while he could claw onto some kind of normal living outside of this. When he had taken it to the authorities before they had made it more than just an extension of what his life was. The nightmare had become his life and he just wanted to breathe.

He went into the shower, scrubbing at his body with the same clawing force he had used on his hands. He felt the tears fall but he refused to fall into a weeping mess. He was trembling, the sight of that room replaying in his head over and over. This wasn’t the end, not at all. He was only living in the beginning of the nightmare someone had suddenly breathed life back into.

Once he was out he got dressed, pulling on a hood over his damp hair and putting on his mirrored sunglasses. Without checking his appearance he left the bathroom and the house, locking up securely and heading down to his car. His phone rang again but he ignored it. He knew who it was without even looking at the ID. It was Harlow. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about what had happened. She would panic, especially after the letter she had gotten just the day before. She didn’t deserve the fear that came along with what he was going through. He couldn’t yet accept that she was apart of it.

Putting the bag into the truck he made to get into the driver’s seat when he saw Harlow’s car pull up behind his own. He let out a low curse. She must have called to see if he was in since she was already on her way.

Lowering his head and releasing a low breath he tried his best to prepare for what he was going to say to her. He looked up at her as she got out of the car and approached him. He tried to wear a smile but he could already feel that it was forced. How much more could she tell? She knew so much about him he feared she would be able to tell something was completely wrong just by looking into his eyes. What if she did? What if she questioned him about what was going on? Did he have the heart to tell her that nothing was wrong, that he was just having a ‘down day’ as his psychiatrist called it? He often had those kinds of days, it was normal. That could work, couldn’t it?

“Harlow, baby, hi.” Jared greeted her with a small smile as he met her halfway, immediately wrapping her in his arms tightly. He sighed when she rested against his chest, his eyes closing as he took in her scent. God, he’d missed her.

“You weren’t picking up your phone.” Harlow said, breaking the embrace to look up into his eyes. Her gaze was full of worry, distress.

Softly he hushed her and gave a bit of a smile. “I’m fine. Look I’m right here.” He outstretched his arms to as if he were trying to prove himself with a small laugh. It didn’t matter that his heart was racing inside of his chest, he had to keep this facade going if only for her.

She sighed a little, looking away for a moment. It was obvious that those nights she had suffered through the agony with him were playing through her head. She was afraid of losing him to the darkness again. Could he prevent it? He only prayed he could.

“Where were you?” She softly asked, her wide eyes returning to him.

He let out a small breath, taking her hand in his with a small shrug of nonchalance. He almost bit his tongue at the lie. But what could he do? He was trying to protect her, trying to let her know in the most silent ways that he was trying to keep her from the pain again.

“I over slept.” He said simply, a smile brightening the features of his face. “And now I’m taking you for lunch. How does that sound?”

“And the paparazzi?” She asked with lightly knitted brows.

“They don’t matter when I’m hungry.” He laughed a little, tugging her towards the car she had come in. All the while his eyes stayed on the trunk of his own car. The dog was in there, the evidence of his lie, his secret. He swallowed down harshly. Somethings had to stay in the dark.


	4. 4

The cafe' was quiet and Jared relished in it. He needed quiet right now, needed to feel the privacy that he felt was being ripped away at least for a single moment. He had barely said a word to Harlow, he just listened- or tried to- while she spoke. His heart was fiercely pounding in his chest and his eyes wandered everywhere in fear that someone was watching, someone was going to come in and make good on the promises he had been fearing for so long. The months would finally pile up high enough and the threat would finally be realized.

"Jared?" Harlow softly called out, finally noticing that he wasn't paying attention. Her small hand reached over the table and softly touched to his. Her eyes searched his, pried into the secret areas that she had found before and yet she found herself completely locked out.

He snapped out of his thoughts, offering her a bit of a smile as he looked at her. "What is it?"

She moved her hand from his, taking hold of her coffee and bringing it to her lips as she contemplated what words she would say. After that letter she had shown to him last night things had suddenly shifted. She had felt it. It had come from somewhere dark within him and that thought alone scared her.

"Did you take your medication today?" She asked, setting down her cup and meeting his eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all. His hair was unusually unkempt and his hands were lightly shaking as he trapped his own cup between them. He was on edge, she could tell. 

Heavily he sighed and looked away. It always came down to his state of mind and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take of the constant pestering about his mental state. He wasn't crazy. He hadn't imagined anything. Everything he had gone through had been true, he hadn't made any of it up. He had suffered, so violently too. Was he supposed to 'admit' to some probing doctor that it had been a lie when that wasn't the truth at all? That's what he felt like the price was. The price of his own suffering.

"I did." He said simply with a short nod of his head as he looked back to her. Her gaze on him was soft. She hadn't meant to upset him but he couldn't shake the feeling that everyone who looked his way was silently judging him. Fans, reporters, anyone. They were all quietly punishing him for shattering the image he had been carrying for far too long. He was only a man, was he supposed to over stretch himself to prove that he wasn't at all just trying to get attention?

"Then..." She began, cutting herself off to stir her coffee only to distract herself. "...then what's going on?"

He swallowed down harshly, his brows lightly furrowing as he met her eyes. "What's going on?" He repeated with a touch of confusion lacing through his voice. "You show me that letter last night and you still have to ask what's going on?" His voice was demanding as he held her eyes firmly.

She sighed and tucked her fallen hair behind her ear. Taking another drink of her coffee she shook her head. "That letter...it was a prank. Nothing more."

His mouth seemed to fall open at her words but he quickly closed it as a stream of breath escaped them. "A prank." He spoke the word loosely and in heavy disbelief. "After everything that happened before you're honestly sitting there telling me this was a prank?"

She nearly jumped at how harsh his voice had become but she didn't move, didn't allow herself to flinch. Perhaps he had skipped his medication, maybe he needed to go see his therapist.

"It was only a letter."

He just stared at her, knowing he couldn't tell her what had happened this morning. He couldn't mention the dog, that would only make it more real. He couldn't mention that letter about herself, that would only make the fear more than a distance between them, it would make it a downright barrier that neither of them could cross.

"You took it."

"What?"

"The letter, last night when you left, you took it." She was speaking so hesitantly like she was afraid he was going to explode. She could see all of it building in his eyes and it pained her but what help was she?

That was something he also didn't want to admit. He couldn't admit to taking the letter, having more than half of them from before stored in his basement. What would that say about him? That would make his fear seemed dramatized, like he was somehow overreacting. 

He made to answer but the waiter came over to the table. He was staring at Jared with a strange look in his eyes, it made his skin crawl.

"Mr. Leto?" He called out, his brows tensed together.

Jared looked up at him, a little unnerved by the look in his eyes. "What is it?" 

"This was to be delivered to you on your arrival here?" He pulled something from the jacket he wore, handing it over into his hands and then quickly walking away. It seemed like he didn't want to be in the same area as him. 

Jared looked at Harlow and then down again at the letter he was now holding. Harlow was holding her breath, her arms folding on the table as she waited for him to open it up.;

Jared slipped his fingers beneath the envelope flap and tugged it until it ripped open. His hands shook more wild, his breath shallow and ragged. Carefully he took the contents out: a single white folded paper. He unfolded it and let his eyes trail along the written letters.

'You and Harlow make a nice pair, Jared. I'd like to see which of you would die for the other. How much torture could you take for her? I'd like to hear you scream in pain while watching her die.'

He stared at the words, his heart beating wildly and his breath coming out more shallow. Harlow's pressing voice was muffled as everything faded into the background. His eyes shot around the cafe' looking for someone, anyone that might have sent this. But no one was there, it was just him and Harlow as well as the staff. 

He saw the waiter that had brought the letter slip out the back, the wisp of his jacket disappearing as the door shut. He shot up, tucking the letter fiercely into the pocket of his pants as he darted out after him.

He watched as the waiter went into a jog through the streets and Jared quickly followed after him. Why was he sprinting directly from his shift after placing the letter into his hands.

He felt his breath begin to choke at him. His chest was screaming with breathlessness as the cold around them bit at him. He had been in shape all his life but the past eight months had left him both exasperated and deteriorating. He couldn't stop though, this could be his chance to figure out who the hell had tortured him for this long. 

The waiter stopped and Jared lunged towards him, taking hold of his arm and bringing him down to the ground. Straddling him he grabbed ahold of the lapels of his jacket and looked him in the face.

"What the hell!" The waiter demanded, writing beneath him to get free of his hold.

Jared threw a punch into the guy's face, incoherent yells rushing from his lips. Cameras were flashing and it seemed like a crowd was gathering. He blocked it all out though, his anger solely pouring out into making this man feel the agony he had suffered with.

"Jared stop!" Harlow shouted, tugging at him to pull him off of the waiter.

Finally a man helped her and Jared felt himself being dragged off despite his screaming protests. He fell onto his back, looking up at the sky and trying to catch a breath. His fists were throbbing and blood was caking on his skin. 

Finally sound came back to him as the haze cleared and he heard the panic surrounding him. Harlow was kneeling beside him, crying it seemed. He could hear the sirens of police cars arriving and the crowd being cleared. Jared tried to rise but he felt a dizziness echo through his head so he fell back down. Harlow took his face in her hands, tears falling from her eyes but he didn't say a thing. Darkness took him and just like earlier he felt himself pass out.


	5. 5

He woke up with the sound of machines buzzing around him. His eyes shot open and he found he was staring up at the white ceiling above him. He swallowed down and winced at the soreness in his throat. A couple of times he blinked away the tiredness in his eyes before altogether rising up in the bed. Everything around him was sterile, the machines, the bedding, the floor. He was in a hospital and the thought caused a panic to rise inside of him, numbing his senses until his control was nearly lost to him. He remained there, his head spinning and the dryness of his throat driving him insane.

Carefully he pulled the IV out of his wrist, gasping at the stinging pain that went through him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a deep breath. He felt so exhausted, so tired, so weak. He wasn't even sure how long he had been unconscious but to him it felt as if it had been forever. He couldn't remember being taken here. Someone must have given him some kind of medication to keep him out. The thought left him feeling violated. He didn't like knowing that people had done things to him without his knowledge.

Dragging himself over to the window he sighed heavily at the sight below. Security was everywhere, trying to bar the dozens of cameramen from getting inside. Just one snap of the crazed rock star, one look at his descension. They all wanted a piece of him, all wanted to know how low he had sunk. It was only a matter of time before the entire world found out that no, he wasn't better. That the upcoming tour was no doubt already in jeopardy. If they didn't know already. 

He turned away, trying to diminish the image that the sight below imprinted on his mind. The bathroom was so close and he moved inside of it. Feeling around the wall to the toilet. He sighed as he released the weight that having to use the bathroom created before he cleaned himself up and brought his eyes over to the small mirror on the wall. He was afraid to open his eyes and so he stood there, his eyes closed unable to look at the reflection he would be offered. What would he see? Nothing but the effects of this whole nightmare.

He had to brave it though. It was the only way he could carry on, get the hell out of here. So he opened his eyes, letting the dulled blue of them look at himself. He could have screamed if he had any strength left but the only thing he had was shock. How long exactly had he been in here? His face looked hollow, dark circles surrounded his eyes, paleness took root in his skin, his hair was lifeless. His skin was beaten black and blue, scars and scabs. He was a walking corpse, drained of life by whatever hell he had been pulled into. Would this really kill him? After suffering for so long, was this to be his end?

Fumbling with the faucet he turned on the water letting it run out warm and he splashed it on his face. His wet hands gripped onto the side of the sink as he lowered his head and took a long breath. He watched the pearls of water drip into the porcelain of the sink. He tried to breathe normally, tried not to make it feel so shallow inside his chest. It didn't work, he felt breathless, hell he felt lifeless. His hands were shaking when he lifted one and held it before one of his eyes. 

He nearly jumped when he heard the door open from the room. He turned to look out the bathroom door and saw Harlow enter. She had a drink carrier with her, two coffees set inside and a couple of pastries in her other hand. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and her sundress was the same he had always loved. She had an air of rejuvenation about her. How had she known he would be up today? Was this scheduled? Had she been the one to admit him? Had she stuck that IV into his veins and pumped him with medicine.

Her expression changed when she didn't see him in the bed as she set down the things she was carrying. "Jared?" She softly called out, her worry evident. She pushed her sunglasses up to the top of head as she walked over to the window. Disgust filled her eyes as she sighed heavily. "Vultures." She whispered with distaste, her eyes watching the media out there wanting a piece of a man's world that was so full of suffering.

He walked over to the bathroom door, leaning against the heavy wood. His eyes watched her a moment, a million possibilities filling his eyes. What could have happened while he was passed out?

"What happened to me?' He nearly croaked out even though he tried so hard to make his voice sound normal enough. It still came out ragged and shaky. He hated the sound of it, the weakness of his voice that he was in no way accustomed to. He was always someone people listened to and now he was but a shadow of that man from his past.The nightmares had ripped him away. Would he ever come back? Or would he simply exist in memories for Jared to try and reach for with a million futile attempts?

She turned around at the sound of his voice, a gasp escaping her lips as she settled her gaze on him."Jared!" She breathed out, her hand on her chest as she crossed the room to him. She looked him over, her worry still resting there in her eyes. She was scared, that was obvious. "I'm so glad you're awake." She whispered, reaching out and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her head went to his chest with a sigh. 

He closed his eyes on the sweetness of her weight as his own weakened arms went around her. He tried to press her closer to him but it didn't work, his strength had all but vanished. Instead he took in the soft scent of her hair, the feel of her embrace. He wasn't even sure how long he had been out but he still missed this, missed her. She was his solace and in his darkness that was what he needed. "I missed you." He whispered down to her, his lips brushing over several strands of her hair as he arms tightened gently around him,

Finally she pulled away and looked up at him. Her eyes held his a moment before she pressed firmly on his lower back to lead him back to the bed. "Let's get you rested." She softly said once she got him to sit back.

He sighed once he was against the pillows, his eyes closing as she lifted up the bed with the remote to get him to sit up. He smiled softly at her once she sat down, her hand reaching out and touching his, her fingers tracing a light caress over his skin.

"Tired baby?" She asked, her eyes full of concern.

He nodded a little but didn't close his eyes like he assumed she wanted. "What happened? How long have I been out?"

Her head tilted a little as confusion replaced the worry in her gaze. "Out?" She asked, her hand pulling back from his. "You haven't been out."

"What do you mean?" His own confusion blared from his eyes, holding the look on her face and trying to understand what she meant. "I have been out, after the cafe'...."

She shook her head again, her hands folding in her lap as she tried to soften the look on her face. "Jared, baby, you've been awake...."

"Then what happened?" He demanded a little harshly now as he moved forward to look her in the eyes as if he wanted to make sure she wasn't lying to him.

"After the cafe' you ran. We couldn't find you for a couple of days but when we did you were..." She cut herself off as she lowered her head with a small pained breath.

"I was what?" His voice grew harsher now, his hand pushing back through his hair. He could feel his shaking getting worse, his frustration escalating.

"You were unconscious then. Beaten, bruised, bloodied." Tears slipped from her eyes as she lowered her head, her upset more than evident. She was scared, sorrowed, terribly driven to a point of panic.

He tried to process the idea but it made sense. The pain in his body, the condition of his face. "A letter....was there a letter?"

She nodded, wiping at her tears as she lifted her eyes to his again. The tears wouldn't stop falling though, a glistening trail along her skin. "When you wake up, remember this, next time you won't. Death will take you, one way or another and it'll be at my hand.."


	6. 6

His sunglasses provided little comfort to him from the paparazzi raging outside the car window. He kept his head lowered, the mess of his hair veiling his face. His heart was racing, wishing that they would pull the car from its park and drive away finally. But Harlow was still inside signing the release forms with Jared's lawyer. The vultures were yelling at him through the glass, demanding answers from him for something that he wasn't even sure of himself. Some asked if he had attempted suicide, others asked if the waiter had attacked him first and most asked if he was going to seek some mental help. 

His head spun with an entangling fear that his stalker could be within that crowd out there. Watching him as he squirmed beneath the lens of flashing cameras. He could be hiding, reveling in his discomfort and fear. Whoever it was would be sadistic enough to want to watch him suffer at the hands of the prying press, their demands knowing no limits as they sought answers for what was happening to him. He was famous, it was to be expected and perhaps that was why he was being preyed on. Did his attacker want the attention it brought? Or was he only interested in seeing him hurt?

He lifted his hand to wipe at a single fallen tear from his cheek and he winced at the pressure it caused against the bruise there. His entire body ached with the aftermath of what he couldn't remember. There were a million questions lingering madly in his mind that he couldn't even answer. That made the aching worse, that made him feel lost, not in control at all of whatever was happening to him. Whoever had ripped away the reins from his hands was now controlling every aspect of his life. He didn't like the feeling, he loathed it. All his life he had managed to dictate every fallen piece of his life and yet here he was, lost in a shadowed maze.

A low breath of relief escaped his battered lips as he saw Harlow and his lawyer approach the SUV. His lawyer tried to shove some reporters out of the way as he escorted Harlow through the massive crowd. They started shouting her name, forgetting about Jared for a moment as they tried to get answers out of her despite the lawyers constant words that there would be no statement given at the moment. 

"What a mess." The driver muttered from where he sat, his gloved hands on the wheel as he gave a shake of his head.

Jared stared at him from behind the mirrored lens, suspicion suddenly flaring in the dulled blue orbs. He wasn't sure where it had come from, the accusatory stare but anyone he couldn't bring himself to trust was suddenly at the mercy of his distrust, of his accusations. It could be anyone at all and he wouldn't even know it. He had to keep his guard up, he couldn't let anyone in just in case that 'anyone' was the wrong one.

"What's a mess?" He questioned, his voice darkly lit as he leaned forward in the leather seat. His back was slick with sweat that pooled at the thin material of his shirt.

The driver's brows pulled together as he glanced at Jared through the rear view. "The media. Damned vultures."

There was that word again that sent a wave of panic to rush through him. Vultures, pecking away at the last remnants of his soul. He leaned forward, pushing a shaky hand back through his hair as he tried to gather himself together.

What exactly was he doing? What sort of hole was he digging himself? He couldn't continue to live this way could he? Shrouded in accusations and agony? He didn't want to but he had no choice but to trudge through the unmovable path that was swallowing him whole. He wasn't allowing himself a break, he saw none in sight. His shattered pleas for release from this would be his swansong, the melody that rang through the air while the last nails were hit into the coffin. He was alive now but for how long would that last?

Finally the doors opened, the rush of loud voices breaking through the muffled barrier he had between them. He looked up first at the lawyer who slipped into the passenger seat and then to Harlow who came in to sit by him. She struggled to get the door shut but eventually she managed to before she let out an exasperated breath. Her fingers raked back through her hair as she tried to settle herself into calming down. The boisterous pressing out there had unnerved her. She had never understood why he had thrived on fame before, always knowing the price he paid with the media but now the confusion on her part was sparked even more.

Jared reached over, setting a trembling hand over hers. Her skin was warm in contrast to the iciness of his own hand. She sighed a little at the surprise, lifting her eyes to his as her gaze softened. He held her eyes a moment, his fingers tightening a little around her hand as he tried to steady the rapid racing of his heart. The fear was still there that he was being watched, even now. "Thank you." He whispered to her before he moved his hand away from hers almost too abruptly.

She stared at him awhile until the car pulled away from the hospital and her gaze got directed out the window. He finally turned to look at her once she was distracted. He wondered what kept her here, what made her feel the need to stay there beside him as if she somehow owed it to him? Was she on a path to pick him up off the floor as if she had some sort of savior complex? Or was it actual love the way he wished it would be? He needed something to keep him alive.

The drive was quicker than he had imagined it would be. The city rolling past his dimmed window until he car finally stopped outside of the house. Harlow made to open her door to get out but Jared shook his head. She looked at him confused for a moment, her brows knitting together as she tried to understand why he would possibly want to be on his own, how he would want to after everything that had happened. He had gone through hell on his own was she supposed to imagine that he would be alright?

"I just need to be...be on my own." he whispered, his eyes holding hers with a plea laced through his voice. He noticed that she was about to protest but he shook his head. "I'll be fine, Harlow. I promise." He tried to smile, tried to soften the look in his eyes. He hoped that it came out the way he needed it to. He needed to be convincing in persuading her to allow him to be on his own. "I'll call you if I need you." He assured her, the only promise he had left to give.

She sighed softly and then offered him a small smile. She didn't trust his assurance but she understood slightly what it was he needed. After being crowded in the way he had been in the hospital she understood that anyone would need some space. He was still so bruised up though, his wounds having turned to light scabs on his skin. She was still going to be worried but if he wanted her to let go and be at a distance how could she deny him something she was sure would eventually manage to help him?

"I love you.." He softly said, unbuckling his seat belt and leaning over to kiss her. His kiss deep, her breath being drawn into him. She smelled of solace and comfort and all he was was the scent of agony and despair. Yes he loved her and the feverent kiss he gave her offered up the hope that she would understand and believe him.

He got of the car and stood in the driveway until it drove away. Hugging his arms about himself he turned to look at his car. His breath hitched when he saw the trunk lock had been tampered with. The dogs body had been in there, who had opened it? Going over to open it he saw it was empty, no sight of the bag he had put the dog into. He swallowed down nervously as he wondered if the doctor had been told about this. That would mean that they would think there was something seriously wrong with him. 

He shook his head at the thought, moving away from the car and heading towards the front door. That was when everything fell apart.

The door was open, all the locks useless as the door stood slightly opened. He tried to breathe right as he lightly pushed it further open and stepped inside. There was a smell lingering in the air, smears of red all over the carpet. Blood.

He wanted to call out but his voice was lost to him, his hands were shaking and he could barely breathe. He could hear the wetness on the carpet as his shoes pressed on the blood soaked floor. He stopped in the living room. Numbness reached him, a prickly sensation made its way through him. He could feel the blackness dawning on him as fear made itself an ever present entity inside of him.

The waiter was hanging from the beams on the ceiling, a paper stuffed into his mouth. 

Jared wanted to scream but instead he lost his balance. He hit his head on the cold floor and his eyes slid shut, the familiar cold darkness biting at his mind as it swallowed him up all over again.


	7. 7

He woke, shadows dancing behind his lids and a heaviness running rampant in his head. His body was sore, tired, exhausted. However long he’d been in the hospital had taken its toll on his being. He was so lost to the darkness that had devoured him. Fear was plaguing him, nerves were weighing heavily inside of his soul. He had no strength left, these blackouts were leaving him almost numb to everything that was happening in his life. He was dragging himself along on a broken soul, finding himself in the pit of loss that he had been dug into. Was this his fate?

Slowly he pulled himself up. Rubbing his hand over his face and let out a long breath. His body trembled, his head swam with the defect of his passing out. He saw the hospital again, that sterile gray place that rose up around him with the sea of photographers below his window. He saw Harlow riding in the car with him, sitting beside him with a sweet comfort filling her gentle eyes. He saw the broken lock of the trunk, the lack of the dogs corpse inside. He saw the inside of his place, the trail of blood, the body of the waiter.

His heart stopped. The body. Hanging from a beam, his bloated face purpled and his eyes constricted and his body limp. The rope had been tight around his neck, there were no doubt burn marks on his throat, the scars remaining there after death as well. That waiter who he had accused, who he head beaten. He still had the marks of his punches, his lip cut, his eye swollen. There had been bruises on his cheeks, cuts. Jared’s own fists were sore still, his knuckles cut up. He had left him worse for wear and now, now he was dead.

He stood up shakily, gripping onto the nearby wall for support because of the tremble of his weakness. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to make disappear the pain that passing out on the ground caused. He was usually so sore, not even remembering how actually sleeping in a bed felt like. He was always falling knocked out on the ground, waking up feeling as restless as before his eyes had closed. He hadn’t actually slept in a long time and the despair it caused him was almost nauseating. He knew that he should tell his doctor, get some medicine to help him sleep like Harlow had suggested but he couldn’t bring himself to admit another weakness.

He checked the carpet for the trail of blood that led into the living room. It wasn’t there anymore, the smears of it was missing. His shoes no longer pressed into the wetness. He looked for the stains closer but still it wasn’t there, nothing was there. He knelt down, touching his hand to the surface of the carpet, pressing against the material but found nothing. As if all trace of it had disappeared. Who could have cleaned it and so quickly?

He stepped further into the living and his eyes traveled up to the beams on the ceiling. The body had been hanging there, the waiter swaying from the rope as dead as any other corpse. Purpled with suffocation. But the body wasn’t there anymore, there was no sign of the rope. It was like the waiter had never been there, like Jared hadn’t seen what he had just seen. No one could get rid of the body so quickly, could they? It wasn’t even dark outside yet, getting rid of evidence, blood and a body was a long job.

He stumbled over to the couch, dropping down onto the cushion with a burdened heave. Tears built in the depths of his blue eyes, blurring the image of the ceiling beams above him. It had been there! The blood! The body! If it wasn’t there anymore there were only two reasons for it, two explanations. Either there had been someone in the house when Jared had returned home and had quickly disposed of the body while he had blacked out. Or Jared had imagined it. Perhaps it had been something in whatever drug they had injected into him during his hospital stay.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as confused fear shackled him to this moment. His eyes staring up at the beams towering above him. He felt so small, miniscule amongst the torment he was suffering. He felt nothing but sorrow ripping away the final pieces of the past he had left to hold onto. The agony that filled him was enough to erase the soul that made him alive, the heart that beat within his being. It was enough to make him no longer exist. He wasn’t a man anymore, he was a shell of darkness treading down a broken path.

He stiffened suddenly when footsteps came from the kitchen. His body was rigid as he turned his eyes towards the closed door that led into the kitchen. He swallowed down harshly, his nerves on high, his trepidation echoing and running inside of him sharply. Someone was in there, waiting for him maybe. Maybe he even had the waiter in there, the body decomposing on the wood floor. Something touched to the door knob, twisted it and slowly the door began to open. Someone was coming out, someone was going to approach him and take his life even. Jared was helpless standing there, lost to whoever it was behind that door.

Jared stood up, staring at the door that was opening. His heart was racing rapidly, painfully. His hands began to shake and his steps were slow, fearful. He moved towards the kitchen hesitantly, trying to blink away the rapid fill of tears that clouded his tired eyes. The sound of his boots resonated from wall to wall, the only sound in the house besides the twist of the knob. His breath was shaky, his nerves on shaky end. He wanted to reach for his cell, call the police, call Harlow, call someone to help him.

“Jared? What are you doing home?” Shannon called out, his voice small and inquisitive.

Jared nearly jumped back, losing his footing as he fell backward. His face turned pale, his eyes widened, his shock filling them. He was staring up at Shannon, his brother who was standing there confusion on his face as he looked down at Jared. The closing sun was whispering in through the panes of the windows and displaying on his features. It was just Shannon standing there, his eyes full of care and concern.

He stared up at Shannon, trying to bring himself to his feet. Shannon offered him his hand, pulling him to stand up before helping to situate him where he stood. He looked Jared over, checking to see if he was alright. When he got somewhat of a confirmation over how he was he smiled a little and patted him gently on his arm. “Here to stay?” He asked with a slight comforting smile. 

Jared stared at him a moment before he slowly nodded. “Yeah, discharged me today.” He replied with a small nod. The fear was still crawling up inside of him and so was his paranoia.

Shannon started talking but Jared wasn’t paying any attention. He looked around the living room and then walked away from his brother. He nodded absentmindedly before he wandered over to the spot on the ground beneath where the body had been hanging over. There it was, the crumpled paper that had been stuffed into the waiter’s mouth. Clumsily he opened it up, unfolded the layers and then held it up in front of his eyes.

‘Be careful, stop bringing people into this. Do it again and someone else will die. We are one. You are mine. We’re brothers. No one else will or can have you.’

“What is that?” Shannon asked, realizing then that Jared hadn’t been paying any attention. 

Jared’s hands began to shake as he focused on the one word, ‘brother’. He looked up at Shannon, backing away a little, the wrinkled paper hanging from his fingertips. Shannon’s lips were moving but Jared didn’t listen to anything he said.

“Get out!” Jared shouted out, pushing at Shannon’s chest making him move up towards the front door. There were protests but Jared didn’t make time for them, he closed his ears to it and finally had him out the door. He slammed the door shut, locking each lock. He stared down at the letter again once he was alone, sliding down the front door and lowering his head to his hands.

It couldn’t be Shannon but….’brothers’. It could be him, it could be anyone.


	8. 8

Jared sat there long after Shannon had left. His eyes watching the closed front door as if his mind was elsewhere, as if everything around him meant nothing anymore. Nothing did. He was lost to the feeling of misery that always clung to him. He felt empty now, lost to his own sorrow, trapped in his own chains. He didn't want to think, didn't want to even breathe but there were things he had to do, things he had to contemplate and think about. There had to be something that would lead him to know what this all was about. There had to be a clue left as to who was doing all of this. He would find it. That would be the only way for him to live.

Finally turning away from the door he moved towards the basement where he kept everything. All those notes, all those pieces of evidence he had kept with him, that he couldn't bear to part with. Why couldn't he let it go? It wasn't that he thought he could investigate it himself, that he thought he could figure out who was doing this. He supposed it was because there was some sort of connection, there was something there that bound him to those notes, that time. It was all a part of him and he couldn't bear to let go of another piece of his life.

Opening the door he went down the stairs, flicking on the lgiht and immediately went towards the bin on the shelf. He slid it off, setting it on the table and removing the lid. Carefully he set down the note he had crumpled earlier, once more lifting out several notes, taking out things from his past. The agony was still piercing through him, the past bringing him a terrible pain. He couldn't turn away though. He had to face it didn't he?

As he pored over the notes he wondered. Could it be Shannon? Could it really be his own brother that was doing all of this to him? He couldn't believe that someone that ws so close to him would do something so terrible to him. That he would destroy his life so viciously and yet still stay there beside him as if nothing was happening at all. Shannon wasn't that kind of person. Shannon couldn't be that kind of person. He was Jared's brother and that alone meant the world, didn't it? That was their bond, nothing could break it. And yet...the timing was too precise.

Over and over he skimmed through notes that had been sent to him while he was out on the road, staying in hotel rooms, even now when he hd entered his house, the waiter hanging from his ceiling, Shannon conveniently inside the kitchen almost the whole time. It could just be coincidence, It could be the overworkings of his paranoid mind. But there was something honestly sharp about the thought, like it wasn't just an accusation but something he could find actual proof to back up. What would he do with that proof if he eventually did find it?

He stopped when he came upon a small box. The one thing he had never told anyone. And in fact he had blocked it all out. The horror he had felt had been severe enough for him to not want to even mention it again, not even to the police when the stalking had first began. He hadn't wanted it to be real, kept telling himself it wasn't real but the smell, the look of it. It was all too real. It was too horrible to be fake.

Slowly he lifted the lid, the smell hitting him and twisting in his stomach. The plastic it was in helped take the edge off the smell but he could still smell it. Or perhaps it had just stuck in his memory, the day he had opened it and the blistering smell reaching him. The flesh was deteriorating, the black skin around it nearly vanishing altogether. His hand shook as he reached out for it, his fingers almost hesitant as it wrapped around it. He swallowed down harshly and then dropped it again. 

Who would do that? Cut off their own finger and send it to him? Who would put themselves through so much pain as all that? And the note that had come with it, the note that had said now Jared had a part of him even though they were already inside each other. He had been so fearfully confused, so frustratingly afraid. This meant it couldn't be Shannon, last time he saw Shannon still had all of his fingers. That made him cleared didn't it? At least he hoped that he did. Hoped that Shannon wouldn't do something as gruesome as all of this.

A knock on the door startled him and he immediately closed everything up, sliding the bin back onto the shelf and rushing up to the main area of his place. He walked over to the front door hesitantly, hoping it wasn't a mass of photographers and interviewers like at the hospital. Looking out through the peep hole he saw Harlow standing there, her face a picture of worry as she fidgeted with her purse. He sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool wood unsure if he would be able to face this again. Face her worry and all the explanations he would have to make again and again. But he couldn't leave her standing out there by herself.

Quickly he worked on unlocking everything before he pulled open the door and met Harlow's eyes. They didn't say anything for a long moment. She was looking at him like she was trying to somehow understand him, looking at him like he was another man. That was the same look she had given him in the hospital when he had questioned what had happened. Was there something heavy suddenly between them? Was she seeing something falling apart that he had cracked? That thought filled him with fear. He didn't want to think about that.

"Hi." He softly said finally, his eyes holding hers, begging her to tell him things were alright between them. She had to know he didn't want to lose her. She had been at his side through everything, through the darkness and the misery that had strangled him. He couldn't lose her now when everything was falling apart again, when his demons were starting to rise up again and take over what was left of his life. She couldn't abandon him to that. He wouldn't be able to survive it on his own.

"Can I come in?" She didn't respond to the look in his eyes, there was something rooted in her gaze. It wasn't just worry, there was a flash of something else that he couldn't quite pinpoint. That frightened him. These past few months he had learned to know and read her so well. If he was losing that what else would he losing? Did that also mean she was losing him as well? That they were slipping away from each other like the past few months hadn't happened at all? But they had happened and they had been the reason he was still alive. She was the reason he was still able to move forward, to breathe.

He nodded, opening the door wider to let her inside before closing it. He locked up the locks and then turned to face her, the same plea in his eyes as he held her gaze. Why wouldn't she respond to it with her usual warmth? Why wouldn't she give him an answer like she usually did? And what the hell was that look she was giving him?

"Shannon called." 

And that's when he knew what it was. It was something so akin to fear he was surprised he hadn't recognized it. She was scared of him, of his outburst no doubt when he had thrown Shannon out, of his loss of memory, of the way he had beaten that waiter. He swallowed harshly and lowered his eyes, tears glazed and blurred the ground beneath him. He felt himself tremble a little with his nervousness and sorrow. 

"I'm sorry." he whispered, unable to lift his eyes to hers.

"You can't just say you're sorry after something like that Jared. You can't." Her voice broke then and he knew that she was going to start crying soon. Could he bear that? Her crying over him?

He forced himself to find some sort of strength so he could look at her, so he could approach her. He set his hands on her waist, bringing her closer to him which brought a sigh from her lips. He looked deeply into her eyes, trying to reach that beautiful entity that was her soul, that precious part of her that had been patient with him. 

"I just don't know how to...." He cut himself off, unsure of what he was going to say, of what words would come next. He didn't know how to what? How to live?

Softly she hushed him, her delicate finger pressing to his lips as she shook her head. "It's okay, baby, it's okay." She buried herself deeper into his arms, sighing at the warmth that still radiated from him. She was scared to lose him. She remembered what it had been like. Those days when he would sit afraid in darkness for hours on end. She couldn't live through that. "We're going to figure this out...even if it kills us."

He shook his head hurried at that, a touch of panic filling his eyes. "Don't say that."

She smiled softly up at him, her hand touching lightly to the side of his face. "I'm not going anywhere." She whispered before she lifted herself to take his lips with hers. 

He kissed her back, eagerly searching for a way to take away the ache of sorrow building inside of him. He pressed her to him, wanting her to know that even he wasn't going anywhere. She led him to the couch, letting him lie down as she went on top of him, lowering herself into his arms and gently kissing him. "I love you." She whispered against his lips. He managed a smile but something was coming on him, his drowsiness. He cursed himself inside, trying desperately to fight it. Not again. It had just happened earlier. His eyes opened even as he continued the kiss, looking up at the beams where the body had been hanging. He felt a twist in his stomach as he remembered the look of the waiter, her lips kissing gently at his neck. He tried to hold onto her, tried to escape it but he couldn't.

"Harlow..." He whispered, which made her to stop. His eyes were fluttering closed on her questions, her worry. He wanted to speak, to say something but he couldn't, nothing would come out. His eyes caught sight of something coming up behind her, a shadowy figure that was distorted to his slipping mind. He wanted to call out but before he could, blackness struck. For how long he didn't know but when he woke up, she was gone. As if she had never been there at all.


	9. 9

He searched the house for her frantically. Looking in each of the three rooms for her, the bathrooms, the back yard. She wasn't there. She wasn't anywhere. If he knew better he would allow himself to accept that maybe she hadn't been there and he had imagined the whole thing on his own, needing the solace of her arms after everything that had happened today to him. He couldn't though. He couldn't because it had been real. Her kiss, her touch, her arms going around him, those feeling eyes. She had been here, that hadn't been in his mind. It couldn't have been. She had been here and now she was gone, not a trace left behind.

With exasperation he rested his head back against the wall, letting out a long breath as he tried to get a hold on himself. After all the things that had happened since Harlow had gotten that letter again, after everything that had happened once he'd gotten out of the hospital. He needed to get a grip on the abyss he was slowly slipping into. He was the only one that could release himself from this torment, wasn't he? No one else understood the amount of agony he was suffering in. They didn't see the effects it had on him, on the scarred remains of his soul.

Opening his eyes he looked around the living room, at the ceiling beams, the vacant couch. It was empty. As empty as his own heart. He was at a loss, his mind unable to come up with any idea as to why this was happening. He knew he needed to see a doctor, knew he needed to bring all of this over to the police. He needed to figure out what was going on. Needed to find out who it was that was so intent on breaking him, destroying what life he had left.

Even after accusing Shannon he still felt no closer to finding out the truth. It was veiled, by something he couldn't tear away. His eyes were blinded and he was gone from a normal sense of mind. He was alone and forcing himself into isolation could do that to someone.All he wanted was to slip back into the normal routine of life that he had found in Harlow, in sinking back into music. But he couldn't do that, he couldn't even bring himself to write down a single word or a note of music. His old self was gone and in its place was this shadow of that man that would never strengthen or get peace.

Nothing was making sense and he couldn't make any of it make sense either. The darkness of the entire situation was so close to swallowing him, he was hanging by a thread, by the blistered nails of his fingers. He would slip soon, fall to his death to the ground beneath as if that was anyway for any man to die. He couldn't crawl back up though and someone taking notice of the terrors he was faced with had no idea how to help.

There had to be a way, a road to take to map his own life from here on. Was there really supposed to be someone else dictating the way he was gonna live? He had always had a tight grip on his own life, a firm hold on the way he would live. He wasn't going to give that up because of a few days of darkness. He had to take back control. He would figure out a way to do it. One way or another he would become again that person that had once lived. He was still in there somewhere. Or at least he hoped he was, beneath the weight of scars and fear, he was there. 

Shakily he rose to his feet, pressing his hand to the wall behind him for support. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. The room was spinning, his head was on fire. Each time these black outs happened they got more and more worse. A stinging pain shot through his hand when he pressed against the wall and he hissed, pulling it back and looking at what damage had been taken.

His eyes widened at what he saw, disbelief strung through him. This couldn't be real. He would have felt the pain. Breathlessly he clutched at his hand, the warm blood slipping down his skin as lightheadedness poured through him. He could have screamed, could have reached out and added pressure to the sudden wound but his strength had already faltered and he had no means to get it back in place. The pain was blinding, his teeth bit down hard on his bottom lip as he tried to suppress the urge to cry out. 

Getting blood everywhere he went in search of the house phone, searching through papers to find the spot where he had left it. The paranoia in his mind made him think that maybe whoever had come in here had taken out the phone lines, had left him alone and suddenly deformed. But no, he found it. The phone a heavy weight in his free hand even as it shook. His breath raggedly slipping from his mouth, his heart was pounding at a vicious pace. He could have mistaken this for dying as the blood loss shocked its effect through his veins. He was alive though, or was trying to be as he waited for someone to pick up on the other end.

 

"...what do you mean?" "...the wound has been there for months. There was no actual bleeding." "...there isn't a way it could have reopened?" "No. Did you see any blood?" A heavy sigh. "No I didn't. Just him screaming, saying there had been blood, somewhere." Another sigh. "Mr. Leto, your brother is sick. I think it's time he be admitted." "I don't want that for him." "Neither do I but as his doctor I don't think the medication is working and I don't believe he's on his way to recovery." "You think it's stopped?" A hesitant breath this time. "No. I think it never began. In fact, I think it's worse."

Jared's eyes opened and he looked around the familiar sterile surroundings with a dark pulling inside of him. Those voices. Shannon, his doctor. A groan escaped his lips as he slowly tried to sit up. His balance was off but he managed despite the ache forming at the back of his head. He lifted his hand in front of his face where that wound had been and he sighed. It was heavily bandaged, he couldn't see the state of it. He couldn't even see his own state, he must've looked like a damned corpse. Beaten, bruised, afraid.

Stretching out beneath the blanket he propped himself up on the pillows behind him and let out a low breath. He still felt so sick, his head about to explode within itself, his hands were shaking but the pain in his hand was gone. They must have put something in it to numb it. Nothing was going to take away the scars though and the fear. The fear he had felt just before he had called Shannon when he had first seen the wound. The fear of waking up to Harlow being completely gone. Where the hell was she?

The room door opened and Shannon slipped inside. He held Jared's tired gaze with his own exhausted look. This whole thing was taking its toll on everybody around and Jared was just waiting for this all to be over. When would it be? He prayed soon. But there was a fear nestled inside, a nagging foreboding that told him none of this was going to be ending anytime soon, no matter how much he hoped it would.

"Hey, you feel any better? You really gave me a scare." Shannon said, sitting on the chair that was beside Jared's bed. He was trying hard to brush away the earlier confrontation he faced with his brother, the accusations being thrown in his face as if any of them had any ground to be there, as if Jared really believed any of it.

Jared nodded and sighed. "What happened to my hand?" He questioned, his eyes wide and inquisitive.

Shannon sighed, pushing his hands back through his hair and looked away. "You really don't remember?" He asked, finally turning his gaze back to Jared who shook his head in response. "Look, Jared, I have to tell you something." He didn't want to go through it all again, didn't want to have to speak all those words that had been said several months ago. He needed to let Jared know what the doctor had said, what would happen to him, what everyone thought would be best.

"Where's Harlow?" Jared asked suddenly, his voice thick with worry and panic.

Shannon's brows tensed as he considered his question. "She's not answering her phone."

"She's gone. He took her. He was in the house. She's gone."

Shannon shook his head, not believing a word he was hearing. This was either a very loud cry for help, paranoia, a breakdown or something far far worse. Stalkers didn't stop for months only to pick up back again. It didn't work that way. He'd had his own share of stalkers and things didn't happen the way Jared was saying it. His brother was sick, everyone believed it. And if Harlow was gone maybe she just had had enough.

"Jared, the doctor wants to take you in. He wants to admit you again for a little while, to help you rest." 

Shannon knew it would happen. Jared lashing out, yells coming from his lips. This was what had happened last time. This was the same way things had played out before. Doctors shuffled in and medicine was put into Jared's veins. 

He could feel himself slip into a calm, not that agonizing blackness from before. This was a sedative letting his body rest and he couldn't fight it. He couldn't fight it even as he saw a man standing in the doorway, his eyes a vicious glare and a smile painted on his thin lips. He was here, he was here. He tried to scream it but nothing would come out. He was here, the damn bastard was always here. But he was slipping and it felt so good to just rest for once. So damn good even if there was a fear filling him. All he felt was it slipping away.


	10. ten

He had watched her pace by several times even with lights out. He watched her until the sight of her coming back and forth made him dizzy. He knew what she was doing, almost knew who she was simply because of the tattoo on her neck. He couldn't believe how much he had gotten lucky seeing this one girl outside of his room. It was like this was all playing into his hands finally after such a long time of dwelling where he shouldn't, of being lost in the kinds of places he would never have visited before. He was scared still of course but there was a light now, set somewhere down below. He had to crawl to get there, had to do a little scraping of his knees in order to.

He turned his eyes from the small window in the door as he looked around. The walls were white, clean, unmarked. The ground was just the same, light flooding through from the small window. His bed beneath him creaked and his arms were sore in his straitjacket. He wasn't sure why they had restrained him, everything had faded into a vague blur in his mind. He wasn't sure what had actually happened and what had only been a part of his imagination.

He managed to stand up, a weight building on his legs as he set his weight on them. Letting out a small gasp he walked over to the window in the door and lightly rested his head on the Plexiglass. He just stared there, lightly knocking at the glass with his forehead He wasn't sure how he looked right now, he was sure that he looked haggard and rundown no doubt. But the girl, when she stepped forward, didn't flinch away or gasp. It was either because he didn't look as horrible as he felt or because the girl at the other end was too fascinated to be shocked.

He lowered his eyes, watching the lock of the door hoping that she would open the door. She was nodding hurriedly when he looked back up at her and immediately went to unlock it. With a glance around she slowly creaked open the door and stepped inside, making Jared move backwards away from her. She carefully closed it, checking out through the window before she finally looked back to him. Her eyes were widened with a soft happiness and a smile was on her lips.

"Let's get you out of this." She softly said, stepping forward and carefully began to unbuckle the straps of the jacket. She smoothed down the plain white shirt that he was wearing before she draped the jacket over the mattress. When she turned to look back at him she smiled and touched to the tattoo on her neck, a perfectly colored Triad that she seemed to be more than proud of. "I can't believe that you're really here." She said, watching him with excitement, with wonder like she hadn't believed before that he was a real person.

Jared nodded, stretching out his arms with a relaxed sigh. "I can't believe I'm here either." He replied, tiring quickly of small talk. He glanced out the window, no one was approaching, no one was coming back which meant that no one had noticed just yet that she had slipped inside. He was relieved that no one had yet. He needed time, just a little so that he could sort this all out and make sure that he could get out of here. He didn't need anymore sedatives, didn't need straitjackets. He needed his release, he needed to know that he wouldn't be confined when his nightmares were already holding him captive.

"Do you..need anything at all?" She asked, tucking her hair behind her ear as she observed him. There was a sadness growing in her eyes that was softened by her admiration of him. Would she still think that way of him if she knew the descension he was suffering from? Would she still feel this way if she had been the one at his side in place of Harlow, watching him sink to the depths of near insanity when his life had spiraled away from him? He knew that she wouldn't. It took a certain kind of person to keep their adoration alive even through the darkest of times.

He sighed, pushing his hand back through his hair. Even that was like some kind of luxury having been restrained for the past few hours. Was it time now to ask of her what plans he had been filling his head since he had noticed how she kept pacing outside of his room. He swallowed down nervously, knowing that he was perhaps taking for granted the fact of her dedication but what else could he do? He was in a lost situation, darkness swallowing him up. He had no other choice, no other option.

He nodded, despite his hesitation building inside of him. He stepped forward, standing in front of her with leveled eyes. "There is something." He began, lowering his tired and darkened eyes. "Would you help me?" After a short while he looked back up to her, a plea softly written on his features, hope flickering in his eyes. She had to help him. This was his only shot or else he would be left wasting away in here until someone deemed him alright. 

She didn't even have to contemplate, her eyes were readied and lit. She gave him a quick nod, eager- perhaps too eager- to help him. She was in a position to help the one person she admired and ad always watched from afar. How could she deny him now when he was standing in front of her seemingly so helpless? She couldn't, she needed him to know that he had people there for him whether he knew them or not. She didn't believe anything they had put out about him in the press. Now was her chance and she was more than willing to accept it.

 

Sitting at the back of the car he couldn't believe that it had worked. He wasn't sure how much longer they had until security noticed he was missing, how much longer it would take for someone to come after them. But they had the head start, they were already half way to the city. He knew he couldn't go back there though, couldn't go back to wherever this girl lived. He knew she wanted him to, knew that she had high hopes of him staying with her but he just couldn't oblige that. There were things he had to do, things he had to figure out.

Reluctantly she stopped and let him out, driving away at a slow pace in case he would change his mind. He didn't, he couldn't. He was left on the darkened highway, nothing in his pockets and a thin jacket to protect him from the cold. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as a shiver crawled up his spine. He was still so tired but he knew that he had no way of sleeping. Not now. He needed to keep pressing. Needed to get back to his apartment on his own, take his box of evidence and give it over to Shannon, his doctor. He wasn't crazy!

He kept walking, seeing the glitter of the city just ahead. He wasn't too far at all, the only oppression coming from the cold that swirled around him. He felt so weakened by his own fear that he continuously, over and over wished it away. It didn't work, nothing did. He was choked up forever by the fear pressing in on him. How could one man know so much fear? He wasn't sure but it was there resting inside of him and he had no way of ridding himself of it.

A sound from behind him made him stop his footsteps. It stopped when he did. The familiar sound of steps behind him. He tried not to run, tried not to panic but he heard whoever it was come closer and he felt the warmth of their presence. Forcibly he was forced to turn around and that's when Jared yelled out. The man's eyes were intense, his mouth pressed into a harshened smile as he glared across at Jared. He had his hands balled up at his sides and there was a slight tremor in his body.

"Get away from me!" He shouted, trying to move backwards but ending up tripping over his own scrambling. He fell on his back, gasping at the pain searing through his back as he stared up and watched the man lean over him. He touched his hand to the hand that Jared had been injured on but despite his protests he didn't stop. He only continued, grabbing for it and holding it harshly. "It's just you and me Jared. That's it. You and me." He seethed out, his anger dripping from his eyes as he stared down at Jared. "Will you ever learn?" He questioned before he lifted him a little off the ground and threw a punch in his face making him wilt beneath the force.


	11. 11

His eyes opened up and he looked around with a groggy groan coming from his lips. His head was a mess of circles and his eyes were burning. He felt like he was strapped down to something, he couldn’t move his arms, his legs, the only thing he could do was feel the rise and fall of his chest with each hoarse breath he took. The smell of rotting flesh and flowers reached his senses. It was close but he couldn’t turn his head to look, his neck was also set in place. The pain of the hits he had taken were swelling on his face, he could actually feel the bruising begin to form.

He tried to open his mouth to say something but his throat was so dry it hurt to even attempt to form a word. Something was wrong, obviously. Someone had done this. That thought sent the images from earlier through his head. That sinister smile, those gleaming eyes. Whoever he had been was keeping him here. His stalker, the one who had singlehandedly destroyed the whole life he had yearned to just keep for himself. Whoever this was was succeeding in making him the destroyed man he was now. Wasn’t that enough? Was he supposed to suffer at the hands of torture as well?

He heard footsteps echo around, heard the sounds of ragged breathing and he sucked in his own breath, closed his own eyes. He couldn’t let whoever this was know that he was already awake, if he knew that would only assure him getting hurt again, could he survive that? Another attack on his tired form? He was exhausted, panicked. He had little resistance left to protect himself from whatever was left. He took a deep breath and let himself fall limp. He wasn’t quite sure what else to do to keep this bastard away.

He heard a door open somewhere in the house- or wherever he was and then footsteps moving away before disappearing altogether. The guy was gone, he had left. Jared had managed to hide the fact that he was awake. He was by himself now. All he needed to do was figure out how exactly he was gonna get out of here, out of these restraints. He just had to think and then he would be out and away. He could get ahold of the address here and rush to the police with. Then this whole nightmare would finally be over.

He struggled against the restraints. They felt like leather as they bit into his skin. He hissed at the feeling, his eyes squeezing shut as he bucked his hips against the bounds tied there as well. Biting down on his lip he tried to push forth all of his strength but it felt like he didn’t have enough because he barely moved, didn’t even manage to break through the restraints. He fell with an exasperated breath and let out a long breath. His eyes opened, staring up at the scarred ceiling above him. Was he stuck here?

A tired and mumbled groan got his attention. Something moved beside him. Sweet smelling hair brushed against his arm and he hissed at the feeling. Whatever it was- no whoever it was moved. They were rising up into a sitting position as their hair fell against him again. He took in a breath, tried again to pretend like he was still passed out but he couldn’t. His lungs had somehow gotten weaker and his eyes were refusing to close. He was staring up ahead at the ceiling, something moving beside him. He couldn’t ignore the fear forcing its way up inside of him.

Suddenly there were hands on his face and he let out a small cry at the cold touch. “Jared?” A voice said and everything inside of him fell apart with relief. Harlow, it was Harlow. Her voice was so sweet, so soft and yet so completely marred by agony and fear. Her hand was touching to his face as if she was trying to figure out if this was some kind of a dream. Where had she been all this time? Here? Had that bastard actually taken her from Jared’s own place and brought her here? And where was that rotting smell coming from?

"Harlow?" He breathed out, struggling against the restraints again. She could help him out, hurt or not one of them needed to be mobile so that they could get each other the hell out of here. They couldn’t stay where they were now when he came back. That would only land them in more trouble, in more pain. He couldn’t imagine laying here bound while listening to Harlow be at the mercy of this insane bastard who had taken her, taken him, taken everything that had once mattered to him.

Without having to even ask he felt he hand working on the restraints on his body. It took quicker than he had initially thought that it would and soon enough he was free. It took him awhile, leaving him laying there for a moment as he stretched himself out and cracked his neck before slowly rising to sit up. He open and closed his eyes several times before finally resting them on Harlow. A smile tugged at his lips and his eyes gleamed as he watched her. They were free, they could get out of here and away from this nightmare forever.

"Come on we have to go." He said almost excitedly as he stood up and looked around the area. It was an abandoned house. Torn up wood floor, peeled wall paper, rotted tiles. It was a mess, not the sort of place he would be in at all. This wasn’t what he had imagined when he had left the hospital. He had thought to go home, convince everyone that he wasn’t sick, that he was just fine. But here he was, in the depths of his own torture sitting here waiting to be killed- or worse- if they didn’t get a move on.

"Jared I can’t." She whispered before she slinked back onto the ground. Her eyes slid shut as her breathing became labored.She let out a small groan of pain as she moved her hands away from the dress she was wearing. There was blood. Blood everywhere. The white fabric of what she was wearing was soaked with it, it dripped onto the ground and her face was completely pale. He hadn’t noticed it before having been in the high of finally bee free. She was writhing on the ground, trying to keep the pain at bay.

He wanted to ask her what had happened but he could see it, see the wound at the center of the dress, it looked like a knife wound, deep enough to paralyze her where she was laying. He wanted to ask her what had happened but he knew, deep inside he knew what had happened. The anger flushed through him as he rushed to kneel down beside her. He pulled off his shirt and pressed it against her wound which made her to hiss out with pain. She shook her head and tried to shove him away. Her eyes were telling him that it was too late. He tried to protest but she had already gotten his hands away.

"Jared, I don’t understand." She whispered, tears falling from her eyes as she stared up at him. She was seeking answers. Didn’t she know how this was all connected? Didn’t she see that this was his stalker? The one that had risen up again to torture him so that he could- he could what? Jared hadn’t figured out that part, didn’t know why the hell anyone would even think to do all this. Didn’t they value the meaning, the freedom of human life?

He heard her crying, saying incoherent words that he couldn’t quite begin to understand but he heard the door opening and that drowned out everything else. He took in a breath when his eyes laid on the man who was standing before him. A smile was on his lips just like before, a heavy glare in his eyes as he watched Jared, wondering it seemed what he would do next. Neither of them moved, it felt like the both of them didn’t even breathe. There was a thick air about them as the sound of Harlow crying emptied out Jared’s ability to rush forward.

It didn’t take the guy a moment to rush at Jared himself, straining against Jared’s weakened strength and knocking him off his feet. He straddled Jared’s waist and withdrew a knife from inside of his coat. He pointed the tip of the blade at Jared, eying him as Jared took a firm grip of his hand. The knife was getting closer to Jared’s chest, the burn of fear echoing inside of him. He was scared, if that knife went in he would die, he would never make it out of this place alive.

Jared gathered all of his strength as he heard Harlow’s breathing become more and more shallow, fading away. He managed to weaken the guys grip as he turned him on his back and buried the knife into his chest, twisting it before pulling it out again. The guy cried out, tears filling his eyes as blood poured from the wound. Jared backed away, leaving the knife inside of him as he watched him seem to die. His eyes had closed, his breathing slowed and the pain was becoming mere creases on the lines of his face.

He turned away from the body and looked down to Harlow only to find that he was too late. The end had come too late. He knelt down, brushing back the blood stained strands of her hair before he carefully lifted her in his arms. He carried her out the door, trying not to cry and this time determined to get himself home, determined to get the truth out and face the end of this torturous ride he had found himself on.


	12. 12

He could see the commotion inside his apartment and he felt a thick sense of bile rise up in the back of his throat. They were in there, looking through his personal things, looking through the secrets he had kept from all of them. He hated the thought, despised the idea that they would know something about them that he didn't want them to. He wanted to run in there and order them all out, never see their faces again, never have to face this kind of intrusion. Hadn't he been invaded on enough? Was he also supposed to take this from the people he kept close around him as well?

He couldn't do any of that though, couldn't order them out or be angry because he had Harlow in his hold. His arms were already numb with her weight and his eyes were burning with unshed tears. He'd gotten plenty of looks from around the streets but he had walked up here from downtown LA he was sure a lot of things had happened in downtown that would make his walking around in that state pale in comparison. He wasn't sure if she was still alive, not giving himself a moment to check her pulse and even if he had he wouldn't be able to tell if it was just wishful thinking or something far different.

He had to think of it on his way back here. What would happen if she was dead? Would they blame him? Would they look at him and demand why he hadn't saved her sooner? He couldn't even begin to think of that, couldn't bear to see the look of despair on everyone's faces at the news, couldn't bear the hole inside of him that would stretch him furiously apart. He was nothing without her, she couldn't let go now.

Slowly he walked to the front door, shivering at the sight of the broken locks. They must have forced their way in, only he knew where the key to all of the locks was. With his foot he pushed at the door making it slowly creak open and a hush fell upon the commotion inside. No one moved though as if they had frozen in time, like they had all held their breaths in unison. Were they expecting him back? Or were they just going through his things to prove that he belonged where they had put him?

His place as a mess, his papers were strewn everywhere. People had dragged dirt onto the clean floor. There were trays of food set everywhere, empty cups, coffee cups. There were even people sleeping on the couch, in his bedroom. The place looked like a hangout and his insides slowly began to boil. This was what they did while he was gone? Go through his things and make his place a living area? Didn't they see that this place had been immaculate? Didn't they see that this place was his own and no one else's? They were ruining the one place that still mattered to him.

He didn't make a move though, he just stood there, Harlow's body in his arms, holding her close against his chest as he watched them all. He sought out his brother but he couldn't find him. At least not here in the living room or in the kitchen. He caught sight of the ceiling beams and he sucked in a breath. That waiter, where the hell had he disappeared to? Bodies just didn't disappear, it was impossible. This wasn't some stupid movie and crap like this didn't just happen in real life. There was always an explanation, always a reason. 

He noticed that everyone's eyes were on Harlow. Her limp body in his arms, the blood dripping from her wound onto the carpet beneath him. Her dress was a mess, her hair tangled and stained. She was seemingly lifeless and everyone just stared at her in that state as if they were watching a ghost. Not a single person moved, not a single person spoke. He wasn't sure if that meant they didn't care or simply because they were afraid of what they would find if they did speak, if they did ask about what had happened.

Slowly, carefully he knelt down on the ground and carefully laid her on the carpet. He made small comforting sounds to her as he gently slid her head off his arm and brushed her hair out of her face even more. The smell of perfume was mingled with the intense scent of her blood, that dark smell of death that had fallen around her. She was so beautiful, even lying there lifeless. She was still the angel that had found him in his locked prison, still the heart that had filled his soul with life.

He left her laying there, brushing away- or trying to- the looks that everyone sent his way. He was so tired, so exhausted from the walk, from the time in the hospital. God, how long had he been in there? He wasn't even sure. How he had survived until he had finally escaped. His prison. It was like everyone was trying to lock him into one. Was his release so hard for anyone to accept? Why couldn't he just be free for once? He'd gone through too much already, gone through so much. There had to be an end, for once there had to be an end.

He moved away from the body ad headed towards the basement where he had noticed the door was opened. He took a heavy breath as he descended the stairs, his bare feet torn and blistered against each step. He heard hushed voices begin from the living room as footsteps began to move around. They were contemplating taking her to the hospital, someone finally shouted to call an ambulance. Someone had their senses about them, someone actually gave a damn. He wanted to rush back up there and make them all promise that they would take care of her but he needed to know who it was that was down in the basement.

The first thing he saw was his bin, sitting on the table's surface. Its lid was open and its contents were set on the table, other papers being shuffled through. Shannon was standing there, a look of sadness and disgust written on his features as he sifted through the evidence there in the box. Jared was frozen watching him, his insides broken as he watched his brother search through the evidence of the darkness he had found himself suffering in the past few months.

"Why is everyone in here?" Jared was surprised at the harshness of his own voice, his eyes watching Shannon carefully as he slowly made his way towards him. It was like he was carrying with him a sense of spite, a suspicion everytime he looked at his brother. This wasn't what he had expected from people. Help, maybe? But not this invasion, he couldn't even stomach it.

Shannon turned to him. A look of anger, relief, worry, concern and complete sadness washing over him as he stared at Jared. "Jared." He breathed out as he approached him and carefully put his arms around his younger brothers small frame.

Jared stood stiffly in Shannon's embrace, wanting to push him away but not finding the strength to do so. It offered a bit of consolation to his already bleeding heart, standing there broken in a desperate embrace. He felt the burn of tears in his eyes, his body began to tremble until finally he nearly collapsed onto his brother, his arms clutching weakly onto him. He could've screamed, could have hit something, could have done anything to release the despair filling him so painfully. But all he did was clutch onto Shannon, his breathing shallow and weak, hard and heavy. 

He wasn't sure how long he had stayed standing there but soon enough he heard the sound of sirens echo from outside. Shannon broke the embrace first, his eyes squinting lightly with concern as he watched Jared, the sound of sirens reaching his ears. "An ambulance?" He questioned, his own tears having fallen from his dark eyes.

Jared nodded slowly, almost reluctantly."Harlow." He whispered and that was all that he could whisper, all he could say. Shannon didn't say anything and Jared knew that he would have to explain. He sucked in a breath and moved over to the table where the contents were laying out. He touched his hand over several items, several papers before lifting his eyes back to Shannon. He took in a breath, his eyes darkening and yet also somewhat brightening.

"I killed him." He whispered in a hoarse, tear stained voice. "It's over."


	13. 13

They took Harlow, her breathing slow and coarse as she tried to hold onto life. She was fighting, that's what mattered. She wasn't going to let go so easily despite her blood loss, despite the panic around her. Just like she had fought for Jared to get through his darkness she was fighting to rise above the thick of her own. She didn't need anyone to help her though, she was crawling through all on her own and everyone was shocked by how quickly she was gaining health back. Although still in a coma her vital signs were getting stronger and she was reacting perfectly to the transfusion. The perfect patient.

Jared watched her carefully from where he sat beside the bed. Today they were going out to check the house he had been held in. He couldn't even bring himself to think of it, couldn't bring himself to remember the darkness that those walls had holed him up in. The fear that had plagued. Why had it happened? Why?! He was hoping once they got there the truth would be unearthed and he could put this all to rest finally, bury it all in the back of his mind, sending it far away so that he never had to remember it ever again.

He picked absentmindedly at his nails, his eyes staring at Harlow but his mind elsewhere. He was aware that nurses had come in to check on her, her doctor checking her vitals. But purpose and a coherent train of thought never came to mind. He couldn't help but focus on other things. He felt out of it. So terribly out of it there was guilt rising inside of him. This was about Harlow and all he could think of still was the fear that incessantly plagued him. He was so tired, so exhausted.

He tried to remember the face of the man he killed. But all he got were those sinister blue eyes, that demeaning smile. He shuddered at the thought. When he tried to think further all he got was the crude and thick smell of blood reaching his senses. It was almost enough to make him vomit. The smell of it, the feel of it on his hands, the taste of it in his mouth when he had been hit. He hated the sick feeling rising inside of him. That sick feeling that weakened him all over again just like he used to be.

The thought occurred to him then, the thought that he had tried so viciously to distance himself from. He had killed a man. A man had died by his hand and would never live again. It wasn't that he regretted it, how could he? The man had done nothing but terrorize him and lead him towards his own destruction. All that man's life had been was darkness and absolute pain. But that didn't soften the blow of knowing that his hands had taken a life. He had stabbed him, had twisted the blade in him and watched the life drain from his face.

He lifted his hands in front of his eyes, watching them as if he was waiting for blood to appear, for scars to suddenly appear from the life he had taken. Maybe the imprint of his knife, the look of pain in the man's eyes. There was nothing there, nothing at all. His hands were the same, no stains, no wounds, no imprints. They were clean, impeccably so, his nails gleaming healthily in the overhead light. He wasn't scarred outwardly by the death, but inside- that was an entirely different story altogether.

He swallowed down harshly and let out a low breath, not wanting to think about it but feeling like it was the only thing on his mind. He couldn't shake it. How could someone shake death when it was the only thing that surrounded you? He was lost to it , lost to the shadows that it created and rose up inside of him. He was weaker than he had been just a few days ago. There was no way for him to live normally after this. He couldn't even bring himself to think about music, to think about anything except the exhausted reality that he suffered in.

He startled when the hospital room door opened. Turning around to face the opening door and tried to smile a little when he saw Shannon slip inside. Everyone and the world had come in to see Harlow today. Tomo, Emma, Jamie, his mom, Harlow's sister, the world was waiting for her to wake up. Come on baby, wake up. He sighed and met his brother's eyes as he lowered his hands to rest in his lap again. Could Shannon see the darkness of what he was feeling? The overwhelming darkness that he couldn't even begin to explain?

"Hey..." Shannon softly said, coming further into the room and standing near the chair Jared was sitting on. He had something to say, Jared could tell that much. The very way he stood there so silently, staring down at the ground like something interesting was happening down there. He was tense, everything about him said that. More than tense. Was it being in the same room as Jared when he had killed someone? Was that what was causing the barrier in the room suddenly? The fact that blood stained his hands and things were never going to be the same again?

Jared turned to his brother with a sigh and nodded. "Hi." He replied, turning away quickly and looking down at Harlow with a softened and mourned gaze. This couldn't continue on this way forever. He wasn't even sure if he could survive another day with watching her this way. He loved her and hated seeing her suffering this way. Hated knowing that she was hurt. Hated knowing that she was suffering laying there on that bed. Was she though? Or would she be suffering much more were she awake?

Shannon sighed, taking a chair from the other side of the room and bringing it over to where Jared was sitting. "Jared, I have to talk to you." He softly called out, his eyes pleading and saddened as he watched him waiting for Jared to answer. He was driving himself crazy, knowing that all of this had torn everyone apart. This had to be fixed, this had to be mended somehow. And there had to be some sort of an explanation, somewhere. He would find it, he just had to look a bit harder.

"What is it?" Jared asked, not wanting to look at Shannon. There was something unsettling about knowing his brother didn't trust him. That's what it was wasn't it? Distrust? Or was it just hesitance? Like everyone else who came around him ever since this started happening again? Walking on eggshells and skirting around things. No, nothing would ever, could ever revert back to normal. He couldn't understand what it was, why they needed to move away from him as if he had some sort of disease. He hated it, hated the taste it left in his mouth and the burn it left in his eyes.

"Jared, they went to the house." Shannon began, looking into his brother's wide blue eyes as he waited for his response but nothing but an impassive expression came in return. "The house that you told them to go to." He hesitated at first and then let out a low breath and continuing. "They didn't find anything...didn't find anything at all in the house. There wasn't a body, there wasn't any blood. Not even yours..." His voice fell to a whisper as he looked at Jared, wanting to gauge a reaction from him somehow. "Are you sure you got the right address? The right place?"

The words Shannon spoke hit Jared so harshly that he wasn't even sure how to respond. He slowly turned his eyes to his brothers as he tried to think of an answer. It was the right house. It was the right place. He hadn't been mistaken at all. What was this? Why wouldn't there be anything found? They were mistaken!They were playing a joke on him! Something was so terribly wrong.


	14. 14

He had yelled at Shannon to get out, had told him that he was tired of everyone playing ridiculous jokes on him. He’d been through too much already, hadn’t he? To fall for all of this without him starting to ask questions. Was all of this a game? A joke? Was all of this just one big web of lies thrown on him? He was scared, he was unnerved by the idea that all this was created by someone he knew. Tortured by the hands of someone close.

He shook his head at the thought. That was insane. Absolutely and entirely insane. No one would do something like that. No one would purposely make him unwind in a whirlwind of near insanity. Who would do that? The people in his life were people he cared about, why would they do things that were so horrible? The things he had suffered through were more than just jokes and games. The things he had witnessed, suffered through were agonizing torments of the mind.  
Lifting his eyes he took Harlow’s form into his gaze again and swallowed down harshly. When was she going to wake up? When would those soothing eyes of hers open so he could look into them again? When would she be able to take her into his arms again and feel the warmth of comfort he’d been apart from for so long? He hoped soon. He needed her here with him. And with her awake that would mean there would be another witness to the man who had done this.

They hadn’t found anything! How could that be? That was simply impossible. He had been in that house and he would never mistake it for some other place. That house was burned into his memory, the only thing he saw when he opened his eyes. The only thing that met his gaze when he drifted. It was in his nightmares, it was the ghost that walked alongside him. He had almost died there, how could he possibly forget it?

And they hadn’t found the man. How hadn’t they found his body? He had twisted the knife in him, he had killed him, he’d made damn sure of it. He had twisted the blade of his knife into his stomach, had watched all life drain from his features. He still bore the wounds that marked his body, could still feel the sticky way that the blood had clung to him. How could anyone say that the body couldn’t be found?

He leaned forward with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his face and pushing his hand back through his hair. This entire thing was enough to drive him crazy. His hand was throbbing as he looked down at the heavy bandage. He hadn’t remembered the wound again, how could he forget. Unless it had happened when he had been in that house. No, no it had happened before then, when he’d been admitted into the psychiatric ward.

He nearly clawed at his hair when his thoughts became incoherent. He wasn’t sure what the hell was happening to him but the incoherent way his mind was throwing different thoughts out was becoming violent and he couldn’t suppress it. He’d heard the doctor telling him when he’d arrived that he was in shock, that sometimes one lost track of themselves when things like this happened. He’d killed someone, enemy or not, and that was a heavy burned for anyone to carry. The doctor had suggested a psychiatrist but he was fine, he wasn’t crazy. He was going to be just fine.

He leaned forward, setting his bandaged hand over Harlow’s an blinked several tears onto his skin. “Things are going to be alright.” He whispered to her, to himself, to anyone in his life that felt incredibly hopeless about this entire situation. He wanted to pray but there weren’t any words coming to his mind. Where were they? Why couldn’t he conjure any up? “Things are going to be alright.” He repeated, tightening his hand on Harlow’s as a short breath escaped his lips.

The door opened and Jared immediately pulled his hand away from Harlow’s. He recognized the clicking sound of the nurses shoes. She glanced at him and instead of a usual flirtatious smile that he would have gotten at any time before he got one full of sympathy. She was silently telling him that he didn’t have to move from Harlow but he stayed withdrawn, suddenly having crawled into himself again.

He watched the nurse check Harlow, probing her unconscious body before he let his eyes close. He wouldn’t move, that had been the rule going around the hospital about him. He wasn’t going to leave her laying in that bed on his own. They let him sit there, having already tended to his injuries. He wouldn’t move until she woke up.

He slipped into sleep, a thin one. He couldn’t even grasp onto any images that had flickered their way into his unconsciousness. He was asleep though, his body could feel just a bit of rest passing over him. He didn’t want dreams. He never had them anymore, the medication he was on deprived him of that. Even when he wanted to dream about Harlow, her sweet comfort. He never got it. All he dreamed of was darkness and that’s all he could grasp onto now.

After awhile his eyes opened and he looked around the hospital room. It was sun lit and bright suddenly. He had actually slept through the night. He slowly stood up, trying to stretch as his body had become a figure of aches all over from the position he had been sitting in. He let out a yawn and mussed his fingers in the length of his hair. He was still tired but he would be able to catch up on all that sleep, wherever it had gone, whenever he had the time to.

He looked down at Harlow and suddenly her eyes were open and on him. He startled, backing away a little before it registered in his mind that she was finally awake. He almost couldn’t believe it. His eyes widened and he rushed to the bed. But something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. She seemed to be trying desperately to get away from him despite her limited movement. She reached for the button to call the nurse frantically.

"Harlow baby, what’s the matter?" He asked, still keeping his distance from her. But she didn’t answer and suddenly the nurses were in the room, frantically checking her, asking her questions.

Jared backed away a little, his heart racing rapidly as confusion spiraled its way inside of him. He felt himself being taken from the room as Harlow’s cries, pleas for him to leave echoed in his ears.


	15. 15

He sat in the waiting room, staring ahead of himself as a million different thoughts came plaguing in his mind. There was too much to be feared at the moment. He'd gone through too much, seen too much to be knocked down by hope now. It had to be something to do with her medication, her being startled by someone being so near to her. It couldn't have been what it seemed to be. Why would Harlow ever be afraid of him? He'd done nothing at all but love her, protect her. She couldn't be so upset about him killing that man that had nearly killed them both. That would just not make any sense at all.

He swallowed down harshly, looking up when the door opened. It was a nurse, her eyes softened towards him and full of sympathy. She had seen the display of Harlow's panic, had been there when her screams began to echo down the hall. That's what was reflected in her eyes now. Something soft and full of a warm concern.

But Jared wasn't sure if that's what he wanted. He wasn't sure if being pitied was something he could deal with. He loved Harlow. He didn't need anyone telling him that she wasn't herself because that was clearly obvious. How could she be herself when she sat there frantically pleading with him to leave? That wasn't like her at all.

"Mr.Leto, Harlow is sedated, she'll be up in the morning." The nurse softly told him.

Jared nodded, tucking fallen strands of his hair behind his ear as he let out a small sigh. He got the image of her laying unconscious in that bed again and he wasn't sure if he could see her that way again. She always had her eyes opened, watching the world pass her by and become solely hers for the taking. She was never one to close her eyes to anything. She was who the world revolved around, her sweetness.

The nurse didn't turn around and leave though. She stared at him for a couple of silent moments before entering further into the room. She hesitated behind him and then took the seat beside him. After a few silent seconds she turned her eyes to his, an unmoving gaze that looked like she wanted to probe into whatever was flickering through his mind.

"Mr. Leto....Jared." She spoke softly and with such familiarity Jared was shocked. She pressed her lips together before softly sighing. "Everything will be alright. She's just, with the medicine, she's not herself."

And there it was. That same old and tired medical term for every outburst a patient gave. They were never themselves. How was Jared supposed to believe that now? She had been so afraid. What if she hated him for killing that man? What if things were going to change now that the darkness had reappeared? Could he really stand there, believing in a nurses word.

"And if this happens tomorrow?" He questioned, his brows lightly knitting together as he met the nurses searching gaze. What exactly was she looking at? What was she trying to figure out? If it was him then she had a completely different outcome ahead. He didn't open up. He couldn't bear to.

She sighed, pushing her blonde hair back as she lightly shook her head. "I don't know." She replied softly, not wanting to break the thin wire she had set out in deciding to come on in here to talk to him. "But, we should always have a bit of hope." She replied, a gentle and barely there smile spreading on her lips.

"Hope." Jared whispered, playing with the word as if it was the most foreign thing he had ever spoken. And really it was. He hadn't found true and actual hope in such a long time all it felt like was a broken and tried thing that he could no longer grasp onto. What was he expected to do? Promise everyone around that there was hope? He had nothing of this hope that everyone seemed to experience. Everyone but him.

She nodded, her eyes suddenly persistent in their gentleness. She reached out, her small hand taking hold of his gently. Her familiarity was almost off putting, those probing eyes that held his. "Don't lose hope." She whispered, showing no sign that she was going to let him go, that she would let this go until she was certain he hadn't 'lost hope'.

His brows tensed a little, looking down at her hand on his and then back into her eyes. "What do you know?" He questioned, staring closer to her, his own eyes searching hers desperately. What was her sudden interest? Had she been here before? Had she really been the one in the room with him and Harlow just now? Who was this woman?

She sighed softly and seemed to think about his question. Lightly she trailed her nails over the skin of his hand as she slowly shook her head. "Someone who cares." She whispered, leaning closer to him. If he wasn't in the deteriorated state he was in he would have thought she was going to kiss him. "Someone who you might belong with."

His eyes widened as he stared at her. She was moving, getting off where she was sitting. She moved down on her knees in front of where he was sitting. Her hands set on his thighs as she held his eyes.

"Who the hell are you?' He questioned, nearly immobile as he tried to understand what the hell she was doing. he didn't even know who this woman was, what she was doing sitting here with him in the waiting room.

"I already told you." She replied, reaching out and lightly brushing his hair back that had fallen from the mussed tie it was held back in.

He hissed at her touch and shook his head. "Get the hell away from me." He ordered, a glare heavy in his eyes.

She didn't make a move to leave and he sat there, watching her with a million thoughts rushing through his head. What if she was the one he was looking for? What if she was the one that had been doing this whole thing all along? But no, he had killed that man, he had killed him. There could've been two. There could always be two.

He stared at the nurse wide eyed as he watched her lips move but he didn't listen to anything that she said. He had a heavy and glaring fear roaming inside of him that seemed to be a permanent part of him suddenly.

Her lips brushed to his and he let out a near yell. Her lips tasted of poison, death, fear, months and months of traumatic agony. He shook his head, another yell escaping his lips as her lips moved against his.

He let out another yell and nearly jumped up. She watched him, her expression impassive and her eyes suddenly cold. It was her! It'd always been her! Two or not, this was her.

He shook his head, tears springing burning to his eyes. He couldn't believe it. He'd been in that hospital room with Harlow the whole time while she was standing here all along. What if she had told Harlow something and that was the reason for her reaction? He couldn't deny that that would make a lot of sense, especially with her sitting there before him, questioning him silently.

Finally the door shot open and Shannon rushed in, worry written on his features. His eyes scanned the room until he looked at Jared and rushed to him. "What's wrong?' he softly asked, his hands closing over Jared's shoulders carefully.

Jared's panic stricken eyes blazed into Shannon's as tears flooded his face. "She...it's her! The nurse! She's after me" He cried out, his finger pointing in the direction of the nurse who was still sitting there blankly staring, coldly.

He broke free from Shannon and rushed from the room, letting out a cry as he ran.

Shannon cursed under his breath and took out his phone. He waited while it rang and then sighed with relief when someone picked up. "He ran again..." He said sadly, pushing his hand back through his hair. "He said there was a nurse...Yeah..." He sighed and looked around the empty room. "...there isn't anyone here."


	16. 16

He rushed back into his apartment. No one was there, finally he was on his own. All he could see in his head were the hazy thoughts of what had happened the past few days. Harlow in her coma, being admitted, killing a man, finding who did this, becoming unraveled. All of it was haunting him. All of it was enough to drive him entirely was he already insane? The thought, that single thought was enough to plague him. He was going to have to live with all these doubts. Was going to have to live with the vicious thoughts of doubting his own mind.

Locking all of the locks he stared at the door for awhile, picking at his nails and trying to keep his breathing calm. That man could come back. There had to be a reason why no one was able to find him. There had to be a reason why there hadn't been a body. That nurse could come back. That nurse could come right up to this door and start again the cycle he had suffered so cruelly from. That was what they wanted of him. They wanted to see him suffer, to fall apart, to let go of the last fragments of sanity that he had left. He had no choice in the matter, not anymore.

He slid down the wall, lowering his face to his hands and shook his head. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. If he was losing his mind then he was losing everything else as well. He was scared that maybe being admitted was really the best thing for him to do. Maybe being away from the threat that he feared so much was what could help. But he couldn't think that way, if he did all his strength, his defenses, it would all eventually fall apart and he would be nothing left but what they wanted him to be. The ashes of his former self.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and his eyes shot up to the pounding. He knew who it was. He knew who wanted to come in. He wouldn't let them in though, he refused to. He wasn't ready to give in, wasn't ready to find himself emptied of all strength. They couldn't have him just yet, he still had some fragments of strength left. That had to count for something. He wouldn't let it not matter. He was alive just like everyone else. For how long he wasn't too sure but for now he knew that there was life running in his veins.

Again the knock came and his breath hitched in his chest. He wanted to scream. No one was getting inside of here, no one was going to see him like this. He had to heal first. He had to heal and then everything would go back to normal. He had to find his own closure and everything would come together again. Then that door would open and whoever it was pounding there would either disappear or be allowed in. Not yet. Not now. He wasn't ready. Would he even ever be ready? He wasn't sure that he could be. If that was even a possibility anymore.

Using the wall to guide him to his feet he stood up and looked around, away from the locks that were firmly set in place. This place that had once been a sanctuary of sorts after finding himself released of the bounds of agony that he had suffered in for so long. Now all this place was was tainted. Tainted and torn apart by death. He saw death everywhere, the taste of it was in his mouth, the sight of it before his eyes. He couldn't live within these walls anymore, all he could do was find somewhere else to hide away, somewhere else where safety could reside with him. Was there even such a place?

He backed away from the heavy knocks on the door and immediately went down into the basement, flicking on the light and looking around the gray painted box of an area. The shelves were bare, everything was gone. His throat felt dry suddenly, prickly in his coarseness. His mind was nearly spinning and he felt altogether like he was going to fall apart. Everything was gone. His evidence that he had suffered with something by somebody. There wasn't anything left that proved his story. How was anyone going to believe him now?

He fell to his knees. He was alone. Alone in his suffering and no one at all cared. His fingers clawed at the floor beneath him as every thought in his head became incoherent, became a mix spiral of things that he couldn't grasp onto. He felt himself scream but he didn't hear it. All there was was a deafening pain echoing inside of his body. He was falling apart at the seams, the only ones left holding him together. Why was he left in this isolation? Why did he allow himself to fall apart? He couldn't understand it, he didn't want to. The fear was becoming too much.

There was a sound from upstairs and numbly, he stopped. Sucking in a breath he rose to his feet and shakily reached for the light, flicking it off and drowning himself in darkness. No one would know he was here, they would leave soon enough. Whoever it was. He stiffly stood there, fear rushing through him. It could be him, could be the nurse. Could be anyone at all waiting for him. They could wait up there all day. If they were following after him, trailing him, they would know that he had come back here, that he was somewhere in this apartment and they would wait. Might as well show himself. Might as well take care of this, end it, once and for all.

He turned the light back on and the footsteps from upstairs stopped, halted at the flash of light. He guided himself along the walls and brought himself to the stairs, taking one creaky step at a time. His hand reached out and he opened the door, stepping through. The light shone on him and his eyes squinted a little, looking around for signs of the intruder. There was glass on the ground by the sliding door, that's how they had gotten in. He didn't step towards it, didn't want to. His breath was heavy and shaky and his head was still swimming with all of those tormented thoughts.

But then he came into sight. This was why they hadn't found the body. He was standing right here, in front of him. Those wide sinister eyes, the same knowing smirk on his lips. Yes he had found him again and this time Jared knew he wasn't going to escape like before.

"We meet again." The man whispered, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Jared shook his head.

This couldn't be happening. Not again.


	17. 19

Jared woke with a start, his eyes widened and uncertain as he glanced around. This wasn’t the hospital room. He felt rested, for the first time in so long he felt entirely rested. This wasn’t the same day. Couldn’t have been the same day. How could it be when he suddenly felt relieved, relaxed, at ease.He was alive again and when he finally lifted his hand up to his eyes he could see actual color, in the tone of his skin.

For a second there he thought that he had died. For a moment he thought that he had been taken elsewhere where he would die alone, in a straitjacket. He thought that Shannon had abandoned him, that Harlow had abandoned him. For a moment he thought that the darkness had swallowed him whole and he was left with nothing but a gaping wound scalding his soul.

But here he was, awake and alive. As secure in himself as he had been in anything. He wasn’t crazy. He was still laying here, his heart still beating. A smile crept onto his lips and he took a slow and calming breath. His sorrow was still, his loss was lost. He was a new man, no he was who he had been before. That same person who he thought was gone from him from him.

With a bit of exertion he slowly sat up, trying to test out his limbs that were pretty much working properly. There was an IV in his arm that he carefully took out, hissing a little at the pain from the pull. He bit down on his lip and let his gaze sweep the room. This was his room, that familiar place that was personally his. Machines had invaded but that was only because they were treating him from home.

The thought alone made him smile. That meant people believed him. Shannon believed him. Finally he felt like he could somewhat rise from the ashes of the past few weeks and claim himself all over again. He hadn’t lost his mind. There had been something threatening out there and it had nearly consumed them all. Had he fought it, whoever it was, and won? Had he claimed victory over whatever entity had ripped him open and made him its pawn. It was over now and he could finally breathe.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he got used to the feel of his feet flat on the ground. Shakily he lifted himself up and rolled his shoulders, pushing back the loose strands of his hair as they came a mess on him. Nothing was moved. This was his apartment. His calm and relaxing apartment. He’d first made love to Harlow in this bed and he was healing now in this bed, in this very room. A solace. This place had gotten to be his solace.

Before he could take a step further the door opened and Shannon stood there, his eyes shocked and widened as he stared at his awaken brother who remained just as frozen. After what felt like a million years, after what felt like iron bars of distance here they were, surprised by the other and both very much alive. Shannon crossed the room, his arms going around Jared tightly. This was calm, this was peace.

Shannon got him settled back into bed and he took the seat beside him. He smoothed down some wispy strands of hair the same way he’d done when they were kids before he let out a stressed sigh. There was something laying hidden in those dark eyes that Jared could automatically sense. He was keeping something from him and that was scary. When they started keeping secrets from each other everything else was desolate.

"Hey? What is it?" Jared softly asked, looking into Shannon’s eyes and giving him a light touch of his hand.

That urging alone was enough. Out came a well of words that Jared sat listening to. In disbelief, in contempt, in sorrow. All the words pierced him. He wanted his brother to stop but his strength had faltered and he couldn’t speak. This was the worst part of all of it.

Harlow had known all along about Jared being stalked and she, and her boyfriend, had made a plan to increase it, make it worse. Her plan was to push him enough until he was about ready to commit suicide and only then would she get the money he had written in for her in his will. She had tricked him. Every touch, every kiss, every word of comfort was lost to him now. The man that had taken both him and Harlow had been real and Jared had stabbed him. It seemed he had gone to die in Jared’s apartments since they had found him laying in Jared’s bed. This bed.

Jared lowered his eyes, a tear falling- and then another and another- until he slowly lifted his gaze to Shannon’s and let out a low breath. “But my finger…”

"What about it?"

Jared sighed, touching to it. Sorrow increasing where sanity decreased. “He did. He cut it off. He cut it off.” He whispered, falling back against the pillows and cradling his hand to his chest.

He had always feared the end. He hadn’t anticipated it to be this bad.


	18. 18

Shannon had watched the security scour the grounds of the hospital before the police had finally been called in. Jared was unstable, he couldn’t be out on those. Shannon wanted to be out there, wanted to stand beside his brother and calm him when they finally found him but they told him that it would be best if he simply stayed put. There was only so much he could that a sedative couldn’t take care of.

A shiver passed through him at the thought of Jared being taken into a hospital, kept there and being administered all sorts of drugs. There was nothing really he could do. Could he really keep him home? Try desperately to try and save him himself? He couldn’t do that. He wasn’t equipped to watch his brother lose himself even further.

And what would the press do with all of this? What sort of field day would they have with the fact that Jared was slowly descending into madness? It would be the worst day for himself, for Jared, for their family. To see that splattered across the news. He didn’t find it fair to his brother, didn’t find it fair to even himself. He didn’t want to watch that, couldnt bear to.

But what other options did they have other than sending him off to give him peace? He was lost in some sort of nightmare that he had yet to pull himself from. He was chained to the darkness in his conscience and had let it take him over. He had allowed it to overtake him until he was nothing but a fragment of who he had once been.

Slowly he entered Harlow’s hospital room. She was awake. Had been for the past couple of hours but she had yet to speak one word. Her eyes were widened with confusion, shock, pain. There was only so much that one person could take. But Shannon was confused. So confused, so unsure about what was happening. She had been afraid of Jared, had yelled and screamed for him to leave. Crazy or not Jared would never hurt Harlow, he loved her so much. None of it was making any sense.

He sat down on the chair beside Harlow’s bed and reached out, carefully taking hold of her hand and lightly running his thumb over the ice cold skin he found there. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact and her head slowly turned to face him.

Her once lively eyes were now devoid of emotion. Her natural and loving nature had somehow stifled and she was nothing but a broken shell. Seeing her this way though, seeing her so lifeless now made him question his assurance that Jared would never do anything to her. What else could extinguish her so easily other than Jared turning on her? But would he really do that?

"Shannon…" She whispered, her cracked lips parting as she registered finally the face in front of her. Her hands wer shaky as they rested on the bedding beneath her. The sound of the machines beside her were distracting him from hearing her coarse breathing. Was she dying?

"I’m here, Harlow." He answered although he truly wanted to be out there finding his brother, making sure that he was alright. He didn’t want to sit here, waiting for a call that might never call. No one knew Jared the way he did how would they even know where to look? There were so many places that he would go. The trails he hiked, the hotels, the shows. No one knew that as well as he did.

"Jared…" She whispered and then shook her head, her breath making her lips dry again. "…he isn’t here?"

Shannon shook his head, reaching out and lightly touching his hand to hers. “Just you and me Harlow….what happened?”

She sighed, carefully pulling her hand from beneath his. Her skin wasn’t cold, she was just so sickly. There was fear in her eyes. Fear accompanied by a guilt that he hadn’t seen before in her. She was always so alive. What had hammered her down so low?

"Shannon? Shannon, I’m sorry."

His brows knitted as he stared at her and then again he shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” He assured her but her eyes were on him again and he was startled by the firm stare she gave.

"We did something. I did something." She pushed out, her eyes ablaze with a darkened fear.

"What? What did you do?" He moved closer, her voice was slowly fading.

Her hand reached out then, gripping tight to his arm and she coughed loudly, dry and hacking. “we…”

But his attention was diverted when his cell rang and quickly he pulled from her and answered it. “Hello?” He answered hurriedly with a sharp panic in his voice.

"Shannon…We found him. We’re taking him back to the hospital. It’s bad." The officer said on the other end.

Shannon stopped and then let out a shaky and broken breath. “I’ll wait outside. Hurry.” He urged before hanging up and looking down to Harlow. “Harlow, I need to go.” She shook her head and tried to reach for him again but he didn’t have time. He needed to see Jared. “Later, we’ll talk later.” And with that he was out the door and heading towards the outside entrance to the ER.

Finally after a few impatient minutes the flashing lights of an ambulance came through and Shannon’s heart began racing, fear gripping him ever so tightly. It was a flurry of rush as the EMTs wheeled out a gurney. Jared was laying strapped to it. Blood was pouring from his chest, his lips were moving with incoherence.

"What happened?" He demanded as he tried to reach his brother but he was asked to stay back and told that the doctor would be with him shortly.

He stood back as ordered but his impatience lingered. He looked back to the ambulance that Jared had just been wheeled out of and saw that there was a second gurney with a body on it a sheet pulled over to cover it up.


	19. 17

He had barely seen anything of what had happened. The feelings inside of him came out darker and the fear came out more painful. He was alone in this. He knew that he was. This man was coming closer and he felt his entire wall of strength collapse around him. He was afraid of what would happen to him, afraid of the night that was slowly dawning outside of the windows. He wanted to scream for his brother, wanted Harlow. He wanted someone, anyone that would help him with this. He had a terrible feeling that he was about to die. That in a short matter of time his breath would be snuffed from him and nothing at all could revive him. Not his music, not Harlow’s arms. Nothing at all.

He nor the man said a word. Nothing broke the silence lingering between them. Nothing broke the terminal quiet that was so unsettling, so thick it was stifling. Jared was alone, Jared was going to die. Those were the words that the voices screamed at him in his head. The voices? There never used to be any voices. Where had they come from? They were a means for him to grab onto something, a way to release what fear was building inside of him. Someone had to save him. There had to be something, anything.

"Don’t kill me." He pleaded. The dull ache overshadowing the weakness of his soul. The thoughts in his head paralyzed in the depths of his mind. His lips were moving. He had so much to plead for and yet so little to live for. He had destroyed everything inside of him, everything in his life. He had wrecked every aspect of his life without so much as realizing it. Shannon thought he was crazy, his evidence was gone, Harlow was afraid of him. He had nothing. Nothing but empty fear threatening to suck away even the blood flowing through his veins.

The man didn’t say anything, he just stood there, staring at him. There was that sneering smirk, that heavy glare. Yes he had been waiting for this moment for months. He had needed it more than he had needed anything and now that it was happening in front of him all he felt was a sense of glimmering accomplishment. This was finally going to culminate into the end he had been pushing for this whole time. Jared wouldn’t fight anymore. His pleas were so weak they were nearly nonexistent.

Jared moved backwards, his back hitting the wall and his breath hitching in his chest. He was afraid. Too afraid. Too lost in his own chaos to be able to do anything else. He would rather take his own life than to have this man, this ghostly man take what little life he had left. He had no more room to back away. He had nothing but the subjection of himself to the man’s will. There was nothing else but darkness. He had too much of a taste of that his whole life when would he finally be rid of it?

The man moved silently forward, his steps stalking, daunting. His eyes were ablaze with the darkest and truest threats he had ever seen. His arms went up, hands resting flat on the wall beside Jared. “Look.” He whispered to him, reaching down and taking Jared’s numb hand in his. He skimmed his fingertips over his fingers, missing one completely. Jared’s brows tensed, confusion flared in his eyes. He wasn’t sure what was happening, if he wanted it to be happening. He was afraid of what the outcome would turn out to be. How did he not know that this man would not kill him what with him being so close to him?

"Does it still hurt?" The man questioned, his head tilting slightly, the light from outside whispering like shadows over his features. He stared still since Jared hadn’t answered. There was always such confusion. So much so that it crawled up the walls and created its entire atmosphere. "From when I cut it off?" He further explained, another sinister smirk reaching his lips as he held up the hand before Jared’s eyes. One was missing. Had it always been missing? Or had it always been there? Only realized now with the voices. All those voices.

"It does." Jared whispered, hissing as the thought tore through his mind. The blade had been so sharp, piercing, cutting through flesh until he ripped away his hand. He had to learn to live without a finger. He had to make himself make sense even without it. The thought ended with the searing pain. This man had been there, laughing while Jared screamed. All that blood. All of it staining the walls, the ground. All the blood.

As if the man had been able to read his thoughts he shook his head with a touch of disappointment before stepping away from Jared, his hand falling from his as disbelief shook the core of his mind. “You’re a stupid fool.” He angrily hissed out to Jared. His eyes large with emotion, his voice thick with disgust. There had been something about the memory. Where did the memories come from? Even when they were being suppressed. They rose up on you, choking what life was left before finally releasing you as a dim witted tiresome shell where the only thing you know is memory.

"KNOW ME!" The man shouted, his eyes wide and pained by Jared’s lack of communication. His hands were clenched at his side, his breathing was coming out raggedly. It was almost as if he were afraid standing there, locking eyes with Jared. Everything about the scene was disturbing. Not something he had been expecting what all. What had he wanted to known for? Known as? Jared couldn’t really recall, couldn’t imagine. This wasn’t the sinister man he had met, he had killed. This was someone completely different. This was a scared and trembling fool, crying because he’d been forgotten by someone who didn’t even know him.

He kept shouting the same words over and over. Jared felt around in his own pockets for anything at all that might subdue the amount of frustration and panic that was overtaking him. Inside he found his pocket knife. Where had that been? Why hadn’t he had it earlier today when he had needed it? When that nurse had forced herself on them? He lifted the suddenly full blade and dug it deeply into the man’s neck. Blood spurted out but his yells didn’t cease, didn’t stop, neither did his trembling. Screams escaped his lips when he saw the blood drenching his shirt and within it Jared’s screams sang out too as he felt his own blood come to the surface.


	20. 20_last chapter

It had taken a long time for Shannon to calm Jared down from his crying spell, clutching his injured hand to his chest. He'd always known that Jared had that wound. He never did ask because every time he did he always got a backlash from it. He would scream and yell, telling him that he didn't want to talk about what was happening to him. So Shannon had learned not to ask too many questions even if the worry was almost overbearing. How could he refrain so much from asking questions when worry was what took over his life now? It was all that he thought about. What happened to his brother? What had made him spiral into this dark pit of darkness that no one seemed able to hold him up from?

Now though he had some kind of hope- or at least he convinced himself that he did. If there was hope than there was an end. And with an end he would get his brother back, finally after all these long months. Peace would find itself found and things could be finally set into motion. They could go back to being alive rather than holding their breath and waiting for another outburst, another screaming fit of absolute terror. No more letters, no more phone calls. Nothing else at all to be afraid of. They were free of the chains that had once bound them.

The backyard was quiet for now. No one was around. It was much too early in the morning for anyone to drop by but he was sure there would be others- and soon. There was always people around Jared, before there was at least. The Lab had become more than just a studio for them, it had become something of a place where everyone got together, where meaning happened in their lives and that's where the best parts of themselves came out. He was actually quite glad to be back here. After Jared had steered off course the place had been nothing but a graveyard. He'd come by, remember the not too distant past and be overwhelmed with exhausting emotions before he would have to leave again.

But now it was a new day. The sun was whispering its rays over the glisten of the pool water. A soft breeze had whispered by, rippling the surface, rattling the plants and the trees. It was actually a perfect day. He could smell breakfast being prepared by Jared's cook. He was sure that there would be pancakes, maybe eggs and some tortillas. His stomach was completely empty. He was in the mood for just about anything. As long as it was filling. He couldn't remember the last time he actually ate something substantial. And for a moment he was glad that was his only problem.

Jared had been out of his old apartment, his shelter away from the terror he had faced, for sometime now. A couple of weeks at most. They were going to put the place up for sell, hoping that nothing too disruptive got out to the press about the place. Shannon had expressed great concern in keeping most of secret, under wraps. As much as he could, as much as wasn't already documented publicly. The place was soon going to be far from their minds now. The police were apparently doing one last search in hopes that they would find another key point in connecting Harlow and her boyfriend to this strange crime.

At the thought of Harlow Shannon let out a low breath. Jared seemed to be taking the loss of her fairly easy. But it was still so early, how could one actually tell? He remembered her fear in that hospital room and still couldn't understand what it was she had been afraid of. Had it really been because of her confession? Was that the reason for that desperate fear that seemed to have been plaguing her? He couldn't quite tell. But did it matter really? She, too, was out of their lives, finally.

Now came the long and hard healing process. He'd spoken to Jared's psychiatrist and he had gotten nothing but the age old saying of 'things take time'. Well no hell they take time. He just needed time to hurry it up and bring his brother back to him wholly. Jared was still in the stage of blocking his emotions however. He was barely expressing any regarding his ordeal. He was putting up a dozen walls that Shannon hoped would come crumbling down anytime soon. He would be there, he made that silent promise. He would be there the moment that happened. Whatever happened he was never going to abandon him and he was sure going to make sure to believe him next time.

He took a final drink of his coffee and slowly sat up. Taking his sunglasses off his face he looked up at the high sun and stared for several moments. His vision grew spotty and he closed his eyes quickly. There was only so close one could stare at a burning flame before your eyes went up in fire themselves. The thought was stranded, left there in the desolate place in his mind where he swept away his biting side of his conscience. This wasn't over. Something told him. Of course it was over. Everything had an end and this here was an end.

Tucking his glasses into the front of the shirt he took the coffee cup and headed into the house, sliding open the door and stepping in. Right when he entered the sound of music hit his ears and a smile reached his lips. Of course Jared would be playing again. Finally, after all this time, things were being created. That was enough to assure him that things had hit their peak and were slowly winding down to a full stop. Everything ended sooner or later. Nothing could anticipate to last forever. This was a step forward, he knew that. With music Jared opened himself up and that was the best thing Shannon could hope for. He would have to let the psychiatrist know all about this.

He headed into the kitchen, exchanging a few words with the cook who handed him two plates of pancakes along with a small bowl of syrup. He continued making them, for whoever else was going to be coming by. Everyone knew how things worked around here. He grabbed a juice from the fridge before heading out of the kitchen and towards the studio. A curse fell from his lips when his phone rang. He couldn't exactly answer the phone when he had his hands full. It was gonna have to wait. He moved on to the door of the studio and nudged up against it with his shoulder, hitting it with the bottom of the bottle.

At the sound the music inside stopped and the door was pulled open. Shannon smiled at his brother. His eyes seemed a little clearer, at peace with themselves. His face seemed anew with a sudden surge of brightness. He was alive now, Shannon could see that. He hadn't seen it in such a long time but seeing it now sent another reassurance through him. Jared was strong enough to heal, he was strong enough to break out of the barrier of pain. He always had faith in him and he was suddenly elated to see the fruition of that hope.

"Thanks." Jared said with a smile, grabbing one of the plates and the bottle of juice before heading back to sit at the computer desk.

Shannon smiled and followed inside, closing the door with his shoe before working on drizzling some syrup onto his pancakes before handing the bowl over to Jared who took it and used the rest. Shannon watched him silently for a moment. There wasn't a shakiness to his hands, no hesitance to eat, no looking over his shoulder or jumping at the smallest sounds. He was whole again, wasn't he? Someone that lived and breathed, not someone who went against the world that shone with life and light.

Jared looked up, having obviously felt eyes on him and a smile appeared on his lips. A smile that seemed genuine, seemed actually alive. "What?" He asked, his brows tensing as a small laugh escaped him. He used his fork to cut into the double stack of pancakes and put some into his mouth. He sighed a little, having no doubt been extremely hungry.

Shannon made to answer but his phone went off again and Jared gestured to his pocket as if he were saying 'go on and answer it.' Shannon nodded, set his plate down and pulled it from his pocket. The name flashed on the screen and his brows tensed. "It's the detective, the one checking out your old place?"

Jared looked up curious now. "Yeah? Well answer it." He insisted and took another bite. His eyes never left Shannon even as he cut out another part of the pancakes.

Shannon nodded a little and brought the phone to his ear after sliding the screen to answer it. "Hello?" He answered, reaching down to cut some more food and put a forkful into his mouth.

"Shannon? Detective Rosalind speaking, do you have a minute?"

Shannon nodded. "Yeah sure, of course."

There was a hesitant sigh and then an audible parting of the lips. "Shannon, we did the sweep of your brother's apartment..."

"Oh, you all done already? Can he go and get his things?"

Another sigh. "We're far from done."

"But, detective, it's been almost a week since you started."

"I know. And that's what we're calling about." There was a hesitance in his voice, a hesitance and an struggled sound of disbelief.

Shannon glanced at Jared who had stopped eating, his hands folded in front of his face as he simply stared at Shannon. There was a change in his eyes, something dark, something different. The image of Harlow afraid passed Shannon's mind before he shook his head of it.

"Well, what is it?"

"We found something down in the basement..."

Shannon's eyes went to Jared's again. That change of still there. Was there a smirk on his lips?

"Look there's no doubt that Harlow and her boyfriend had a part in whatever it was that happened to your brother. We have the confession, her boyfriends body...but..."

"But what?" Shannon questioned, a little impatient now.

"But in the basement...there was a body buried beneath the concrete, ID matching a waiter at a local restaurant. The same one that your brother was fighting just a few days before his admittance to the hospital. And...we've matched handwriting samples from the letters Harlow and her boyfriend sent to the others?" Another long and hesitant sigh. "The handwriting is conclusive in being your brothers."

"Wait." Shannon said quickly, holding Jared's eyes as he rose to his feet. "What are you saying?"

"We're saying that your brother he...he buried his dog and this waiter in his basement and we have legitimate proof here that he has been stalking himself, besides what Harlow had done, for quite sometime."

Jared let out a small laugh and walked over, reaching out to take the phone from Shannon's ear. He set the phone down on the desk once he hung it up. He leaned back against the desk, his arms folded across his chest, a smirk on his lips and his blue eyes growing a darker shade.

"Jared?" Shannon whispered.

He shook his head. "Jared's not here anymore. He thought he could run. Thought he could push me down deep down inside." He chuckled a little, dark grin still holding on his lips. "Surprised?"


End file.
